Bhrigu Mahesh, Phd

by Nisha Singh

  ‘He already is.’ said my friend. ‘What he has to prove now is that he is not guilty.’

  We had informed Nataraj Bhakti about this impending visit to his friend. He wanted to join us but Bhrigu strictly forbade it. ‘I can swear on my life that Manju has done no wrong.’ Bhakti persisted but Bhrigu brushed his feelings aside. We set off for Manjunath’s house and within fifteen minutes, we were standing at his doorstep. I rang the bell and a parrot sounded somewhere within.

  Neelu opened the door and let us in warmly. She requested us to take a seat and then almost ran inside to inform her husband. I noticed that the woman looked a lot sober; now that she had removed every trace of make-up from her face. She had a plain face, as I had already suspected and she looked way younger than she did before.

  ‘What a welcome surprise!’ said Manjunath as he entered the living room. He was wearing a white striped shirt and a colorless lungi. ‘What brings you to my humble abode, sir?’

  ‘We were about to leave for the city.’ said Bhrigu. ‘So I thought we should pay you a visit before leaving.’

  ‘Your thinking was faultless.’ said Manjunath with a broad smile. ‘It is never a good thing to leave without meeting friends. I was about to leave for Nataraj ji’s house myself, but now we can all go together.’

  ‘Certainly.’ said Bhrigu. ‘Bhakti ji can do with all the company in the world.’

  A pall of gloom descended on Manjunath’s face. He had lost weight and looked a lot older now and I had seen through his attempt at fake gaiety, the moment I had walked into the house. The man was clearly mourning Savita’s loss or was it guilt that was eating him away?

  ‘Savita has gone to a better place.’ he said in a small voice. ‘This world wasn’t good enough for her.’

  ‘Please forgive me for my bluntness, Manjunath ji.’ said my friend. ‘But I thought you had a totally different opinion when we traveled together in the train. What happened to affect such a change?’

  Manjunath’s face turned scarlet with mortification. He seemed to recollect the words he had spoken to paint a very tainted picture of Savita’s character and it looked as if those words had now launched an attack on his conscience.

  ‘I…I behaved like a very ignoble man. I did.’ he cried. ‘Savita was a noble soul. It was I who misunderstood her. I wronged her by believing the baseless rumors over her integrity. But…but I am glad that I could amend my mistake before she…you know…she was beyond any call. I apologized to her and she forgave me. The big hearted woman that she was.’ he looked at us with sheer helplessness. ‘God is so cruel! To take her away when I…’ His words faltered off.

  The man was baffling me with every passing second. Was it in his nature to change his views every other day or did he really misjudge Savita? I looked at my friend and found him sitting there with an expression which was somewhere between annoyance and impatience.

  ‘God is as cruel as we make him to be.’ my friend snapped. ‘Manjunath ji, I am sorry but your changing testimonies do you no credit. Please, I request you tell me in detail what happened between you and Savita that made you go from maligning to worshipping her.’

  ‘I never maligned her’ he bleated like a lamp. ‘It was just misunderstanding. The incident from my childhood had such an effect on me that it compromised my reason; the ability to think. But she was just a girl then and we all make mistakes as children. As adults, we should not carry it but bury it in our memories forever.’

  He stole a glance towards the inside of his house and then said in a low voice. ‘I did not tell you this before but when Savita came back to this village, she was in a very low spirit. She would shut herself up in the room and would not come out for days. Nataraj ji was very worried about her condition and wanted to do something to help but she just looked through him! She would talk a little only with Damyanti bhabi and no one else. They shared a bond of a mother and daughter, I guess. My friend, though, was heartbroken when he found out that his sister had built a wall between them which was impossible for him to climb. Helpless, and not knowing what to do, he came to me for help. He said to me that if there was anyone in this village whom he trusted with all his heart, it was me. He thought that where he had failed, I could be successful. He requested me to talk to Savita and counsel her enough to make her at least have three square meals a day. He was afraid that if she continued on the self destructive path, she would meet her end soon. I…I resisted his pleas; told him that Damyanti bhabi would be able to help her but he said that he did not trust the counsel of his wife much. “She would just sit there and criticize me, if nothing else. She will take my sister further away from he.” he had said. What could I do, sir? I hadn’t talked to Savita after that incident in our childhood and we had grown steadily apart. I did not know how to approach her but I could not find it in my heart to say ‘no’ to my best friend. So I reassured him of my co-operation in the matter. His face lightened with the realization that he was not alone in this trying time and someone had his back.’ he paused for breath. At that moment, Neelu came in and put a tray of tea cups and some biscuits on the table. Manjunath was silent till he was sure that his wife was safely out of earshot.

  ‘I went to Savita and at first, received the same treatment as her brother. She would not open the door no matter how many times I would stand there, banging on the frail thing. Sometimes, my frustration would turn into anger and I would feel tempted to break the door which was such a flimsy barrier to begin with. One solid punch and my way would have been clear. But I resisted the temptation. I did not want to do anything that would upset her further. So I persisted in my weak but steady efforts. One week later, my perseverance paid off and Savita finally let me in.’

  ‘At first, I would just sit there beside her, ask her after her health and would leave. She would reply in syllables and in no way encouraged me to go beyond anything more than mere formalities. I, though, was in no mood to be let down again. I started to talk to her on my own. I would tell her about my life and in return she would either nod her head or say nothing. Once or twice she would not open the door again. But I did not stop, sir, I did not. I had promised my friend and I was not going to let him down. I would sit there with her for an hour or two, talking about different things; things that I thought would elicit a response.’

  ‘One side conversation is boring, is it not?’ I asked.

  He looked at me confused and then smiled. ‘Sometimes you have to embrace boredom in the line of duty.’ he said. ‘And it was not just a one sided conversation. It happened totally by chance but it was my advice that helped turn her life around.’

  ‘Your advice?’ asked Bhrigu.

  ‘Yes.’ said Majunath Gupta, urging us to take our cups. ‘I used to talk to her about a lot of things like the state of the village, my shop, some of my colorful customers etc. One day I just casually mentioned that I had to send my son to a boarding school very soon because the primary education in the village was going to the dogs. It was the first time that I sensed a change in her demeanor. She would usually sit with her body and her mind far away but when I mentioned this fact, I could notice by the shine in her eyes that her interest was back. She asked me a lot of questions about primary education and then I casually suggested that she could teach a bunch of bright kids of the village and help them strengthen their foundation. After a week, Nataraj ji informed me that Savita had opened tuition classes in the shed.’

  ‘That’s all good.’ said Bhrigu. ‘But I still don’t understand why…’

  ‘Because she wasn’t good to me, sir, that’s why.’ broke in Manjunath Gupta. ‘She had acted on my advice, true, but she was still treating me indifferently. She would hardly talk to me properly and now that she had a vocation, I could not even get a chance for those one-sided conversations. She had cut me out completely.’

  ‘That did not mean that you would malign her in public.’ I said heatedly.

 
‘I wasn’t maligning her!’ he cried. ‘At the time I thought that what I said was the truth. That’s all.’

  ‘Manjunath ji, please calm down.’ said my friend. ‘Please tell me when and how your feelings towards Savita changed.’

  ‘It…it all happened after you had left the village.’ he said in a tired voice. ‘She came to my shop one day and thanked me for my support. She looked happy and excited and I was glad to see her in such high spirits. She asked after my health and also congratulated me for the prosperity of my shop. I stared at her bright face and suddenly realized that she could not possibly be the woman that the rumors had built. And of that I was now quite confident. That innocent smile was guilty only of love and affection.’

  ‘You are very confused about your feelings when it comes to Savita.’ said my friend with a hint of mockery and disdain. ‘Your friend believes that you were her well-wisher.’

  ‘And his thinking is absolutely right.’ Manjunath Gupta said quickly. ‘I always wanted Savita to be happy only her apathy sometimes got the better of my feelings. Let me tell you this quite frankly. I have always thought of her as my good friend; a feeling that wasn’t reciprocated until recently.’

  ‘I see.’ said Bhirgu. ‘The signs of grief are visible on your face. I can just imagine how you must have felt when you first received the terrible news. You would have been crushed, to say the least.’

  ‘Crushed is a mild word, sir.’ said the man and his voice became hoarse with pent-up emotions. ‘I thought someone had played a cruel joke on me. I am still processing the news. I sometimes feel that if I go to Nataraj ji’s house, I would see Savita, only to be rudely reminded that she is gone forever. Each time, it’s such a shock.’

  ‘What were you doing when you received the news?’ my friend asked matter of factly.

  ‘I…I was…’ he stumbled for words. ‘I don’t recall.’ He sat there for a while thinking hard. ‘Yes! I just remembered. I was talking to my son on my mobile. He had called from his hostel in the morning to inform me that he had been selected for the cricket team there. I was overjoyed at the news and also a bit anxious that now that he has been selected for the team, he won’t give proper attention to his studies. At that moment, I remember, my wife came running into the living room and informed me of the terrible tragedy. Numbed with shock, I was about to bolt out the door when she stopped me saying that the police had come and they had removed the body and cordoned off the area. I just sat on the sofa there; where you are sitting right now, for an hour or two, I can’t say, like a statue. I thought I won’t be able to ever move again.’

  ‘How did your wife know about it?’

  ‘She heard from our neighbor who lives opposite our house. My wife is in the habit of going to Shiv temple early in the morning. When she was almost home, our neighbor, Shanti, saw her through her window and called out. She came running to Neelu and informed her of the incident. Shanti was one of the few people who were in the crowd before the police arrived.’

  ‘Hmmm.’ said Bhrigu. I could see that he was looking a little perplexed. I had a feeling that he was disappointed because things had not gone quite as he had expected. He could never really develop the habit of appreciating anything that did not go according to his plan or his thoughts.

  ‘Are you sure it was in the morning that you received the news? I am pretty sure that the tragedy occurred during the afternoon.’

  ‘Afternoon? Really?’ Manjunath said with surprise. I could see that he struggled with a moment of confusion. Then the cloud of uncertainty cleared. ‘No, sir, you must be mistaken. My son had called me in the morning, I think around 9’o clock. Minutes after that my wife came in and related what had happened. If you don’t believe me, I can show you the call log. It will prove that memory serves me right.’

  Before we could say anything, he zipped out his cell phone and after rummaging in it for a while he showed us the log. ‘Look here, sir’ he said, thrusting the screen of his mobile under our noses. ‘Vikas. That’s my son. He called me on 9.05 a.m. on Thursday; the day of the…the tragedy.’

  ‘I must have been confused.’ said Bhrigu. ‘Pardon me.’

  ‘It’s alright, sir. Anyone can make such a mistake.’ he replied humbly.

  ‘We will take your leave now, Manjunath ji.’ said Bhrigu. ‘I am sorry for the loss of your dear friend. I hope you recover soon.’

  Manjunath Gupta’s face became long and drawn on hearing the note of compassion in the voice of my friend. However hard he tried to resist, a thick droplet of tear formed in his eye and coursed slowly down his cheek. ‘Thank you, sir. But I…I do not think I will ever fully recover.’

  3. A Woman with Two Faces

  ‘Manjunath disappointed you, did he not?’ I asked as soon as we were back in our room at Bhakti Niwas. ‘I could see that look on your face.’

  ‘In a way.’ returned my friend. ‘He is a variant of what I had thought of him before.’

  ‘He looks like an ordinary enough man.’ I said. ‘Why is he a…a variant?’

  ‘I did not say that he was not ordinary but a sub-class of ordinary a.k.a complicated.’ he replied.

  ‘What do you mean?’ I asked, confused. ‘How can an ordinary person be complicated?’

  ‘How do you define ordinary, Sutte?’ he asked with an impish smile.

  ‘Ordinary.’ I said casually. ‘Means ordinary. A person who is quite simple.’

  ‘That’s a layman’s definition of ordinary and completely wrong.’ he replied, stretching on the chair, working one of his mint gums.

  ‘Really? Then what is the professional’s definition of ordinary?’ I mocked. ‘Something extraordinary?’

  He laughed with such ferocity that I had to be sure my ear drums were still working properly. When his paroxysm of laughter subsided, he said. ‘Sutte you say the strangest things.’

  ‘I say the strangest things?’

  ‘Yes.’ he replied. ‘Ordinary means anything which does not fire your imagination. Mundane, boring et al are the synonyms for ordinary.’

  ‘Really?’ I said hotly. ‘By the way, what is the difference between simple and ordinary? Also, if Manjunath is ordinary, how is he complicated?’

  ‘There is big difference’ he replied easily. ‘Simple is any person who is on the outside as he is inside. He can be a factory-worker or a great thinker, if he is true to himself, he is a simple man and not in the least ordinary. Most great men fall under this category. Complicated ones, like Manjunath, on the other hand, are generally disillusioned or experienced/seasoned simpletons and follow a different, more convoluted graph from your average simpletons but their starting point and end point is the same. This means that they all fall under the one big class of ordinary.’

  ‘What?’ I cried, baffled. ‘Are you giving me a brain twister again? Why have you always to talk in graphs? What can you possibly mean by that?’

  ‘I talk in graphs because human nature follows a set pattern and my line of work is to trace that pattern. You know it and still you ask.’ he said, a little impatient. ‘Now, think it over. You will understand. It’s quite simple.’

  ‘Leave that matter alone.’ I said. ‘Tell me about Manjunath Gupta. He is ordinary so he must be a simpleton?’

  ‘Yes.’ said Bhrigu. ‘He is complicated as he belongs to the experienced simpleton group. His experience in life has helped him develop many layers to his character. He surprised my initial assessment of him and therefore you noticed the look of disappointment on my face. I must say, as my scribe, you are nailing my emotions bang on.’

  ‘Thank you for the compliment.’ I said hollowly. ‘I think I am growing into becoming an authority on you.’

  He smiled and I had a feeling that it was his way of mocking me silently.

  ‘What are you thinking now?’ I asked again.

  ‘How did you know that I was thinking?’ he asked,
surprised.

  ‘The gum in your mouth.’ I replied with satisfaction.

  ‘Oh’ he said with a broad smile. ‘You really are an authority on me.’

  ‘So tell me, what’s on your mind?’

  ‘I was preparing mentally how to go about interviewing Lakshmi.’

  ‘Lakshmi? Who?’

  ‘The inseparable friend of Savita that Nataraj Bhakti told us about? The feisty wife? Remember? She is my suspect number three. We have to leave for her house after lunch. Let’s see what surprises she has in store for us.’

  After a particularly distasteful lunch which Premkala had grudgingly supplied us, we asked our host the directions to Lakshmi’s house. He did not seem to remember her at first but then as we jogged his memory; it all came back to him. He said that he did not know where she lived but the one person to ask for any information about the village and the villagers was none other than Premkala. We approached the woman next but she was very reluctant to help us in any way. Finally, when Bhrigu bribed her with a hundred rupees note, she sang as sweetly as a bird and seemed to bestow a look on us as a mother does her child.

  It took us not more that twenty minutes to reach Lakshmi’s house on foot. Premkala’s expert guidance helped us to navigate easily through the narrow dirt roads of the village, looking for the various landmarks that she had painstakingly supplied. The woman, I must say, had a sharp memory and she seemed to know the village at the back of her hand just like her husband Chiranjeev. Constant loafing about and sticking your nose in other people’s business made you the bearer of such immense knowledge that wasn’t anything short of encyclopedic.

  Laskshmi’s house was situated in a very nature friendly area; at the heart of the very best you could expect from a village. The narrow, broken road that we had taken, led us to a copse of lush trees; their green branches radiating in all possible directions and the shadow they cast seemed to take that part of the village into its gentle fold. Whenever you looked up, you could feel the patriarchal trees slumbering in the afternoon and watching over everything that came under its protection. For a brief moment, I thought that I had walked into a jungle and cursed Premkala to have played such a mean trick on us but my friend believed that we would end up in civilization if we continued to move ahead. I could not see where I was going and the gentle breeze that blew through the trees was cool and comforting but my feet had now begun to grow tired and I was eager to rest my back against a trunk and relax.