Bhrigu Mahesh, Phd

by Nisha Singh

  Bhrigu was sprinting ahead of me and I had no choice but to follow him silently. At last, my perseverance paid off and the network of trees cleared to reveal a semicircular settlement. There were a group of houses scattered about in the semicircle and beyond it ran the fields as far as the eyes could see. The cool air from the trees was circulating here and there was a sense of calm that is very difficult to find in cities. It was a beautiful sight, almost like a postcard and I took the beauty through my eyes.

  ‘What a wonderful place to live.’ I remarked. ‘So cut off from the rest of the village; green and peaceful.’

  My friend had no counter-remark to make and stood there like a soldier surveying the area before an attack.

  It was noon and the inhabitants were inside the house, probably resting after a hard day’s work. Only an old woman sat on a low stool outside a small brick house that was only half cemented. Her eyes were slapped on with a thick pair of glasses that made them look twice as big as they actually were. She appeared to be smoking a beedi and the look on her face was that of content.

  ‘Can you tell me, Amma.’ said Bhrigu approaching her. ‘Which is Lakshmi’s house?’

  She looked at us curiously, holding the beedi aloft.

  ‘Lakshmi.’ I repeated. ‘Which is her house?’

  ‘Lakhi?’ she said and smiled like an imbecile. I could see that her front set of teeth were entirely missing. Only the four canines were still fighting for survival but theirs was a losing battle.

  ‘Not Lakhi. Lakshmi.’ I repeated impatiently. ‘L-A-K-S-H-M-I’

  ‘Oh’ she said and smiled through her heavy wrinkles. This woman was happily oblivious of the state of her buccal cavity. ‘There’

  The old lady had raised her right hand which held the beedi in a certain direction. I observed that her forelimb looked as if it had been dried in the sun for a year. But, abandoning my observation, I looked in the direction in which she had pointed and was relieved to find that there was a house at the end of her index finger.

  ‘That is Lakshmi’s house?’ I asked to confirm.

  She smiled like an imbecile and happily demonstrated her canines again.

  Leaving her to her occupation, we marched towards the house that had been indicated. It was a small structure, rectangular in shape like most of the houses we find in towns and villages. People with humble incomes, who have set their mind on building their own house, have come upon a method called jugaad by which they can save a lot of money. They make their houses on a narrow strip of land and on the outside these abodes look little more than doll houses, ridiculously small but their ingenuity can be seen in the way they have built their rooms by utilizing the rest of the strip and hence if you were to observe them by their length; which appears to be a long but narrow slice of a big cake, you would understand how they have managed to survive in seemingly no area. It is almost like the mind trick of an illusionist who seems to have overestimated his talent. This house was no exception to the rule. The mouth of the house was painted in pink with bright red borders but the rest was just covered in cement with not a spot of paint on it. The dwellers reason that people would care only about the façade without noticing the very noticeable back.

  We came upon the door of the house and gave it a gentle knock. As we patiently waited, I observed that the façade was covered in colorful pictures of Lord Shiv. The brightly painted door was no exception either. I knocked boldly again. After a few seconds, a voice called from within. ‘Baby! There’s someone at the door!’

  After five solid minutes, the door opened to reveal a thirteen year old girl wearing an oversized red frock. ‘Who do you want?’ she asked cheerfully.

  ‘We are here to see Lakshmi.’ I said. ‘Is she in?’

  In reply, the girl went inside the house shouting, ‘Mother! Someone’s come to meet you!’

  A sleepy woman came to the door after making us wait for another ten minutes. She was of a medium height and weight and I could see her long, plaited hair hanging to her waist. Her face was quite ordinary and the one that gets easily lost in a crowd. But, in those dull, luster-less eyes, I could see depths of a pain that is common with women who have made a habit of suffering and unhappiness has now made a permanent home in the wilting garden of their life. As she saw us, she put her sari over her head and said in a drowsy voice- ‘I am Lakshmi.’ She then surveyed us from top to bottom. ‘Are you here to meet my husband?’

  ‘No. We are here to meet you, madam.’ said my friend with a smile.

  ‘But I think I don’t know you.’ she replied with some confusion.

  ‘Did you know Savita?’ Bhrigu asked.

  A look of sharp pain crossed the woman’s face. ‘Savita didi was my best friend.’ she said almost in a whisper. All her residual sleep had now evaporated.

  ‘Good. We are here to ask you a few questions about your best friend.’

  ‘Are you the police?’ she asked with a note of alarm.

  ‘No’ my friend replied with a smile. ‘Only a couple of well-wishers.’

  She showed us into the living room that was small and sparsely furnished but neat and tidy. She made us comfortable on the sofa seat but her painful expression made it clear that the woman was certainly in very low spirits. I think our barging in on her, unannounced, must have also contributed significantly to her discomfiture.

  ‘Shall I get you a cup of tea?’ she asked, standing hesitantly in front of us.

  ‘No. We are fine.’ said Bhrigu. ‘Madam, please sit down. We have a few questions to ask of you.’

  ‘But why?’ she asked in a painful voice. ‘What have I done?’

  ‘You were Savita’s best friend, were you not?’ said Bhrigu warmly. ‘If a few answers can help clear the mystery behind Savita’s death, won’t you do it?’

  She was silent for a while, debating within her and looking at us searchingly. ‘Are you with the police?’ she asked in a timid voice.

  ‘No. But we are helping them.’ said my friend. ‘Savita’s brother, Nataraj Bhakti is our good friend. We thought while we are here we could help in the investigation. We also knew Savita.’

  ‘Oh.’ she said and took a seat on the chair opposite us. Her body language told us that she was not at all happy to be participating in this interview but the timid woman just could not refuse her unwanted guests.

  ‘What do you want to ask?’ she said. ‘I will tell all that I can but I am not sure I know a lot.’

  ‘Tell us that what you know.’ said my friend. ‘And that will be all.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Madam, how and when did you meet Savita?’

  She hesitated and then said. ‘My daughter told me that there is a very educated woman living in the village who is giving tuition classes to children of her age. Many of my daughter’s friends were her students so on her request, I went to see her. I wanted her to teach my daughter too. When I met her, she struck me as a very nice person. She was very gentle and kind. My daughter loved her too. We started meeting often and soon became very good friends.’

  ‘You did not know Savita before that? She had spent her childhood in this village.’ I asked.

  ‘No.’ said Lakshmi. ‘I came to this village only after my marriage. At that time, she was not here. Only two years ago she had come back.’

  ‘Good friends always share the most intimate things with each other.’ said Bhrigu. ‘Did Savita confide anything in you?’

  Lakshmi was quite for a while. She looked so troubled that my friend had to add- ‘You can trust us. Nothing you say here will ever go outside. We ask you such questions only because it’s necessary.’

  ‘I…yes…I mean…’ she stammered.

  ‘Please speak freely.’ said my friend.

  She exhaled deeply and then said. ‘Savita didi did not talk much about her personal life. Mostly, we talked about the future of our chi
ldren and the value of education in our lives. She wanted me to study and get a degree. She used to motivate me a lot. I was even seriously considering enrolling in a correspondence course. I wanted to do something with my life and for the very first time I was feeling…happy.’

  As she said this, I could see the hope shining in her eyes and for a brief moment her face transformed from being dull to almost beautiful.

  ‘For me, Savita didi was a role model. I wanted to be like her, think like her.’ said Lakshmi with a new passion in her voice. ‘Her confidence, her boldness, her assertiveness…She had all the qualities that I could only dream about. She was such a strong woman. I…I thought that if I could just follow in her footsteps, I could….’

  ‘Not all is lost.’ said Bhrigu with a smile.’ ‘Savita is gone but her teachings can be a guide for you always.’

  She meekly nodded her head.

  ‘Madam, I ask again. Did Savita confide something in you about her life?’

  ‘No…not much.’ said Lakshmi. ‘Only once. She was very happy that day. She said that she would not waste her life here anymore. She would not hide anymore. She will not keep him a secret…’

  ‘Wait a minute.’ I almost cried. ‘Him?’

  There was again the suggestion of this mystery man that we did not know about and who kept appearing like a phantom in people’s stories and also in the smell of the perfume whose trail Inspector Chandu Srivastava was following.

  ‘Yes.’ replied Lakshmi. ‘I don’t know about whom she was talking about but…that is all I can remember. I know nothing other than that.’

  ‘When did she say this to you?’ I asked.

  ‘Only…two…weeks ago, I guess.’

  That was the time when we had left Krishna Dwar. Bhrigu’s chat with Savita had clearly had a positive effect on her and she was now ready to push her life around once again when it was, well, brutally cut short. Her new found friendship for Manjunath, happy confidences in Lakshmi, all bore a silent witness to this fact.

  ‘One last question, madam.’ said my friend. ‘Where were you when the tragedy occurred?’

  She stared at him for moment, blinked twice and then said nervously. ‘I…I had gone to the Shiv Mandir.’

  As had Manjunth’s wife, Neelu. Like the name of this village, the women here were very devout too.

  ‘And what time was it?’

  ‘I…I go to the temple around 9 in the morning and am back by 10 or 10.30. My daughter was with me. If you want, you can ask her.’

  ‘That’s not necessary.’ said my friend. ‘Your word is enough.’

  At that point, a man as thin as a straw came shuffling into the living room.

  ‘Lakshmi, whom are you talking with?’ he asked in broken reed like voice.

  Lakshmi faced her husband and as if by magic, her whole personality changed. She gritted her teeth and appeared to be possessed by a very strong emotion. She looked like a volcano about to explode. I didn’t know how this timid woman that we were interviewing had suddenly transformed into a ferocious fighter.

  ‘It’s none of your business!’ she shouted and I almost jumped in my seat. I don’t know how the harmless question had warranted such a dramatic response and that too from such a humble a person. ‘I will talk to whoever I please! Who are you to order me?’

  CHAPTER 32

  A Warrant

  ‘I am not ordering you.’ said the man in a pleading tone. ‘I was just asking you a question, that’s all.’

  ‘Well, don’t.’ snapped Lakshmi. ‘Your questions take the shape of order, sooner or later.’

  ‘Lakshmi…’ began the husband.

  ‘We should take your leave now.’ said Bhrigu, getting to his feet. ‘Madam, thank you for your assistance.’

  The woman changed into her former, timid self again and nodded her head coyly. In no time, we were out of that little house to almost run into Baby, the daughter of Lakshmi, chatting outside the gate with a girl of her age.

  ‘Look where you stand!’ I cried and she just stared at me, making a sour face, which I thought well to ignore.

  On our way back, I saw that most of the people had started trickling outside their houses, chatting with their neighbors or making a beeline for the village market. In the crowd, I spotted Sakha, the man from the mini-bus. He was hurrying somewhere on a battered looking bicycle. I could see that he still had not changed his residence.

  ‘Now, Lakshmi is quite the character.’ I said as we passed under the network of trees again. ‘She was so timid in front of us but when her husband came along, she changed into the incarnation of Goddess Durga.’

  My friend was lost in his own thoughts and did not say anything in response to my remark.

  ‘What are you thinking about?’ I said, a little reluctantly. I knew how he hated when I tried to break into his thoughts. ‘Please, don’t start shouting at me again. It’s just that I cannot make either head or tail of this mystery around Savita’s death. It’s bizarre, to say the least. I think that Chiranjeev and Premkala are the likely suspects and you should be asking them a thousand questions; trailing them everywhere but you seem to be all over people who could surely have had nothing to do with Savita’s death.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ he asked mechanically, his mind somewhere else.

  ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ I almost cried at his thick-headedness. Sometimes, even he appeared to be as dim-witted as the people around him. ‘Premkala and Chiranjeev are so greedy that they can harm each other if one stood to gain something from the other’s misfortune. Savita had a fortune and you can see how desperately they are trying their best to get something out of it. They even missed her last rites! The stink of humanity! I am sure that they have killed her for her money and that’s it. Why are you wasting precious time going after Manjunath and Lakshmi? Manjunath is Nataraj Bhakti’s best friend as Lakshmi was Savita’s. They both cared deeply for her and of that I am convinced. You, on the other hand, seem to be quite confused on the matter. For heaven’s sake, please tell me why?’

  My impassioned speech had helped to bring him back to the present. ‘Chiranjeev and Premkala are my suspects too.’ he said. ‘When did I clear them?’

  ‘You did not clear them is correct.’ I shouted back. ‘But you behave as if you have cleared them.’

  ‘You are clearly mistaken, Sutte.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then tell me one thing’ I said, trying to keep pace with him and avoiding bumping into villagers passing me by. I observed that the streets had become much crowded now than they were in the afternoon. The small shops dotting the roads were now flocking with customers; especially the dinghy tea-shop that read ‘-wan Chaiwala.’ I did not know what came before the ‘wan’ because those letters had been wiped off clean from the dirty signboard. Every time they had the Indian brew boiling to syrup in the pan, it would disappear into the overworked, calloused hands of the noisy lot of villagers, just back from another hard day at the fields.

  ‘Yes? What is it that you want to ask?’ asked Bhrigu.

  ‘Why are you not, at this moment, tagging the two prime suspects?’

  ‘Tagging them?’ he cried, indignant. ‘And what can you possibly achieve by tagging them? What do you think I am? A bloodhound?’

  ‘No.’ I said, almost tripping over a stone. ‘But I am sure that all our answers lie in the direction of Chiranjeev and his obnoxious wife. So quit this futile exercise and let’s just concentrate on them.’

  ‘By following them around?’

  ‘If you can’t do it, I can.’

  ‘Be my guest.’ he replied and cut himself off completely. I walked with him seething with anger when, in a matter of minutes, I started to come to my ground state again. I don’t know what had gotten into me a couple of moments before. I guess I was just tired and famished and the difficu
lt road was making matters worse for me. How could I question the methods of my friend? Yes, he worked in mysterious ways, to the detriment of his companions, but it was just that he was gifted with an insight that I had never seen in any other person and that gave him a kind of key into the minds of the people he probed. He was not showing off and it was not something that he could help. It was just that he was moving in a trance-like state where his foresight led him; a foresight so strong that it was sometimes too much for people like me to try to keep up and that sometimes led to a certain well, frustration.

  ‘I am sorry for my outburst.’ I apologized. ‘I don’t know what got into me.’

  ‘It’s alright, Sutte.’ he said with a smile. ‘The way you almost bumped into that girl and tripped over that stone justified the loss of a few screws.’

  I looked at him for a moment and then we both burst out laughing. By that time, the huge gate of Nataraj Bhakti’s was looming before us. A dog lay curled up, fast asleep before the gate. I was just about to scare it away, when Bhrigu’s phone rang. He took it out of the pocket of his Kurta and smiled as he saw ‘Inspector Chandu Srivastava’ emerging and fading into the screen with a dull vibration.

  ‘Ah, the man after my own heart.’ said Bhrigu and picked up the call. ‘Hello, inspector. I hope everything is fine?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Never had been better.’ I could hear a new ring to the voice of the inspector.

  ‘What’s the good news?’

  ‘The latest news is of the efficiency of the Police force of Krishna Dwar.’

  ‘Really? What did the police force of Krishna Dwar do?’