Bhrigu Mahesh, Phd

by Nisha Singh

  She looked at her husband once and before I could read what she felt doing so, she removed her eyes and plastered them to the ground and all throughout her journey to the police station, they left the ground not once.

  CHAPTER 39

  A Green Fire

  ‘I…I was suffering from arthritis and…and the pain was intense but…but he did not care for me…He…he was concerned for her….She…she was running a fever then.’

  I was hearing this line for the fifth time as Neelu repeated them like a stuck record looking stunned and in poor possession of her mind and every time that I heard her, my fists clenched on their own, seeking the jaw of Manjunath Gupta.

  ‘Neelu ji’ said my friend. ‘Please calm down. Here, have a glass of water.’

  We were all sitting in Manjunath Gupta’s living room. Bhrigu had cancelled the plan of taking the poor woman to the police station after she had fainted twice in the jeep on its way to the police chowki and looked so pale when she came back to her senses that we feared she might have a stroke coming. Even before Manjunath could say anything, my friend had decided that it would be better if she were to have a familiar atmosphere to calm herself and also to get a grip on her emotions that were tearing her apart from within.

  She took the glass of water offered to her by my friend and the way her fingers trembled clearly indicated that her thoughts were raising a maelstrom in her mind and defenseless, she was getting closer and closer to the eye of the storm with every passing second.

  ‘Please tell us about everything that happened.’ Bhrigu said gently. ‘I promise to you that once you confess, everything will get easier.’

  ‘She…she had…she had a fever…’ the woman repeated again. ‘But…but I too was suffering. He…he would go to her and shun me.’

  ‘How long have you been suffering like this?’ Bhrigu asked.

  ‘For an eternity.’ She replied, her eyes blank and expressionless. A ray of light from the setting sun found its way into the living room and took everything; man and furniture alike into its rosy glow. I could see Savita’s features clearly in the soft, orange light. This light has brought out the beauty of many an object; as the flattering features are prone to catch the light and shine in all its glory whereas the unseemly ones often remove themselves from this radiance and allow all that is beautiful to take the centre stage in God’s own limelight. This same light has inspired many a poet to write beautiful poetry on objects which under normal conditions would look drab and mundane with nothing remotely romantic about them. I studied Savita’s features in the same light and found that her face was so plain that even this divine light could do nothing to raise her to the standards of the poet. Her swarthy complexion just absorbed the light like an opaque object and did not in any way interfere with it. Her eyes too, just sat there in their luster less world of black and white, silently admonishing the playfulness of the light and criticizing the way it brainwashes good people into believing that there is a superior, more romantic realm of existence when actually there is not. Neelu was one of those plain, sensible people who, at every stage, have given this light a tough competition in proving that there is no color in this world except black and white.

  ‘When did you first get a hint that your husband was attracted to another woman?’

  ‘Sir! cried Manjunath. ‘What are you…?’

  ‘Manjunath ji,’ said my friend firmly, ‘you have done enough damage. Now please, I request you to keep quite and to not interfere in this interview.’

  He opened his mouth to protest but then thought better of it. He kept looking at the tired, hopeless face of his wife but she was resolved on looking at anything but him.

  ‘Madam, I repeat my question.’ my friend began again. ‘When did you first suspect that your husband was…?’

  ‘From the moment he first took her name.’ she replied sharply, looking straight into Bhrigu’s eyes. ‘I knew it then and there that if he ever came to love me, I would be second only to…to her.’

  ‘You are lying!’ cried Manjunath. ‘I have done everything to keep you happy, haven’t I? And…and we have spent such good time together. You…you have always been so happy….Never have you complained once. I always thought that we understood each other perfectly.’

  ‘I was happy.’ said Neelu, talking to the ground. ‘Because I chose to be happy. I told myself again and again that you are my husband and hence whatever your feelings towards h…her, you would always be with me.’

  ‘Was that enough to keep you happy?’ I asked, confused at her reply.

  ‘Yes.’ she replied. ‘After all, her husband left her, didn’t he? She lied that he had died. Had he died, she would have never returned to the village that she hated. Only a tragedy worse than death could have compelled her to forget the pains of the past. My husband was at least with me and I convinced myself that I was in a much better condition than hers. That gave me happiness.’

  ‘You are wrong, Neelu ji.’ my friend said, looking at the woman with an intensity that could very well penetrate her skin. ‘The source of your happiness was the fact that the woman your husband loved was now another man’s wife and hence your position in his life was safe. Your happiness, or relief, was threatened, however, when Savita returned back. You were always afraid of her but you never wished her ill-will. That’s not your nature, is it? All you cared about was her to stay the hell away from your husband. When you first came to know that she was to stay here in this village for a while, you panicked, didn’t you? Your life which you had so painstakingly put to order was crumbling right before your eyes and you could not do anything to stop it, could you?’

  She was silent for a while, staring fixedly at the ground and then said almost to herself. ‘I did not panic. I knew that I had cemented our relationship to the point that she could do no harm if she returned.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ Bhrigu cried. ‘You are lying, madam. As you knew from the very moment that your husband first took Savita’s name that he loved her, you also instinctively knew that you could never make him fall in love with you, however hard you tried. Please tell me if I am wrong.’

  ‘Sir!’ Manjunath stood up, trembling like a leaf. ‘What…what are you saying? I have always l…loved my wife. She has won my heart.’

  ‘Have I?’ Neelu said quietly. ‘Are you ready to swear on our children?’

  ‘I…I…’ Manjunath stammered and started pacing around the house in agitation.

  A pathetic smile crossed the wretched woman’s lips. ‘You are right, sir.’ she said again. ‘What’s the use of this denial again? I have now learnt that it is a useless strategy. Yes…yes, I always knew that I could never make him fall in love with me.’

  ‘So you killed the woman he loved.’ I said angrily. ‘But I don’t know how you thought that would solve your problem.’

  ‘I never intended on killing her.’ she replied, trance-like. ‘It…it just happened.’

  ‘It just happened?’ I cried again. ‘What can you possibly mean by that?’

  ‘Oh God!’ It was Manjunath. He went on his knees before his wife. ‘Why? Why did you do that Neelu? You are my wife and I care for you deeply. You are also the mother of my children. I promise to you…I…I swear on my own children that I would have never left you ever. I would have never failed in my duties as a husband! Oh! Why? Why in the name of god did you do this? Why did you destroy this family? What will I tell my children now? How could you do this to them? What will I tell Dharmendra when he returns from school? What will I tell him when he asks where his mother is?’

  Neelu stood up, facing her husband. She looked as if an other worldly power had now consumed her. ‘I did not destroy them!’ she screamed so loudly that one or two of the passers-by stopped and looked in the direction of the house. ‘You destroyed them! Only you! You wretched man! What do you think, huh? A wife is just a duty? A responsibility? You expected me to be
happy with all the materials in the world that you could offer…including your body whereas…whereas the truth is that the things that really mattered always belonged to that woman. She was the undisputed owner of your love, your heart and your respect. Whereas I…’ She was now shaking all over. ‘I was left to contend with your useless sense of duty and responsibility.’

  ‘Neelu…Neelu…’ cried Manjunath, taking his wife in his arms. ‘What has happened to you? You were never like this before! Oh! What has happened to my simple hearted wife? I never suspected your heart could be so full with jealousy.’

  Neelu had fainted yet again. When she came to herself she composed herself and began as if in a soliloquy. ‘It had never been about me. No. It has always been about her. My mother always cried in silence that my father did not love her. At that tender age, I used to think that why is mother so sad? Father lives with her. He gives her his earnings at the end of the month. They always talk to each other. Then why…why is mother complaining that father does not love her? After my marriage, I understood her plight completely. He mentioned her on our first night together and the way he took her name, I just understood. That day we united as a husband and a wife but…but I knew all along that there was something mechanical…something robotic about it. I knew then and there the meaning of my mother’s words. Indeed, she was right when she said that father did not love her because he didn’t.’

  Manjunath was staring at his wife with his mouth hanging open and although he looked as if he was swelling with what was in his mind, he just could not get it on his tongue.

  ‘I…I don’t even remember that I took her name on our wedding night.’ He somehow punched in a line.

  ‘You don’t, do you? You never do remember when you mention her, do you? It is just a reflex action; something as natural as breathing and how can anyone fault you when you are doing something you have no control over?’ Neelu was looking directly at her husband now. All her resentments that she had bore with patience till now were finding a vent and I could see that her own questions were making her stronger, bolder.

  ‘I…I never…’

  ‘You made sure that every little thing that I did should remind you of her in some way or the other.’ Neelu began, oblivious to everything else around her but her own grief. ‘Savita keeps her room like this so you should too…Savita has such a good collection of books, you should read too…Savita loves flowers, don’t you love flowers? Savita would be a good influence on Dharmendra…Savita does not like rice and why not? Rice is so unhealthy! Savita is so cool headed…Savita is an inspiration to other women…you should try to improve your mind like Savita does….Savita! Savita! Savita!’ shouted Neelu. She was shaking in every limb. ‘Everything that I did was wrong if it was not like her. At first, I desperately wished that you were just infatuated with her and now that she has gone for good, you would forget her and make room for me in your life…but…but I was so naïve to think that….to think that she could ever leave your mind…your heart…The way you always dictated and lectured me on how she would do something or the other and I should too, I knew instinctively that you were not making room for me in your life but you wanted to turn me into her! S…Someone who just reminded you of her more and more…’ She was breathing hard and I offered her a glass of water which she ignored. ‘And I suffered everything in silence, you know why? YOU KNOW WHY?!’

  A terrible silence greeted her words. I felt as if I was also somehow guilty of her tragic situation and yearned to get out of the room.

  ‘Because…because I was a fool, that’s why. I was a fool to think that I could win your love with my devotion. I did everything to please you. Slogged in the kitchen so that every meal that you had was the very best, mended your clothes, looked after your health and cared for you like my own child! I did everything to make your relatives happy…even when they said mean things about me because I wanted you to be proud of me. I strove to be the ideal wife everyman dreams of but…but you insensitive man! You would still sing her praises when I was right there messaging your leg when it hurt, you were expostulating on her qualities when you were enjoying a delicious meal that I had cooked for you, you were comparing me with her relentlessly and heartlessly when I was looking after this home even when every bone in my body ached and groaned for some relief. You thankless man! You have brought this on yourself! You have killed her!’

  ‘Oh Neelu! You are quoting everything out of context!’ cried Manjunath. ‘I may have mentioned Savita a couple of times but it was only casually like I mention my other friends and relatives.’

  ‘Oh no…you did not! Your every morning started with memories of her and ended with dreams where she held you captive and how you enjoyed it! And I…and I was reduced to nothing more than a glorified maid that you had married to keep your home in readiness. You do not love me because you are consumed by the one woman who cared nothing for you or your feelings. You remember how I put red roses in the vase one day and you said that lilies would look better? It was because she liked lilies, is it not? Your favorite sweet is Malpua and when her son came to the shop asking for some, I understood why you relished them so. Your likes and dislikes too, were governed by her!’

  ‘Something inside me was dying every day.’ she said with a terrible anguish in her voice. ‘And I had come to a point in my life that had it not been for our children, I would have seriously considered ending my pathetic existence but…but then I found some semblance of comfort when I met Punditji.’

  ‘Punditji?’ Bhrigu asked.

  ‘Yes.’ she replied, her face a trifle composed as if thinking of this person gave her strength. ‘He is the wisest of men. He sits at that beautiful temple and listens to the woes of every troubled soul. No one returns from his threshold empty handed. He is the last refuge of every lost human being.’

  ‘What’s his name?’ Bhrigu asked again. For some reason he looked very ill at ease.

  ‘Pundit Parichay Mishra ji.’

  ‘What?’ my friend and I cried together. ‘Parichay Mishra?’

  CHAPTER 40

  A Lost Refuge

  ‘Yes.’ she replied. ‘He was a source of great comfort when I thought I had lost the meaning of peace. He forced me to change my perspective and to look at things from a new angle; focusing for once, on me, rather than my husband or anybody else for that matter. He is a great saint and his principle of “Finding yourself” has given many a people total control of their otherwise directionless, meaningless lives.’

  ‘The man who keeps preaching that humanity should know its reason for existence?’ I asked as his words floated to the surface of my mind from a not so distant a past.

  The woman ignored me completely and continued as if she was sitting by herself, all alone. ‘I was born and brought up in a family that thought men amounted to much more than a woman ever could. While my brothers were given proper education and sent off to study in colleges in fancy cities, me and my two sisters had to make do with whatever education we could find in a remote village. When we had completed our primary education, mostly by self educating ourselves, my father denied us further knowledge and was worried to find us suitable husbands. Although he was a well to do man with plenty of land, he chose to save money for us in the form of dowry and considered any other expense, including that of our education, a waste of money and time. We were not bold enough to challenge his decision and hence we did as we were told, accepting it as our destiny. Growing up, we were always taught that women who have character always think of their families first and put themselves and their needs at last. That is the true sign of a cultured woman who comes from a good home. This lesson was taught to all three of us; a lesson which I never forgot after I was married. I sacrificed a little of myself every day to make a happy home and I would have been happy in return if only…if only this man would have let me to do so. As soon as I stepped into the role of a wife, practicing the lesson I had learnt to a T, I found
out that I had been tricked. I had been told that you can win the heart of your husband by worshipping him like a deity; by putting yourself at last but…but it never worked for me. I was heartbroken to finally realize that the lesson was superficial at best and did not hold any water when applied to real life. What was ironical was that the obstacle which was actually keeping me from my husband was a woman who was educated and cultured; well read and erudite. So, in the end if I had any chance of winning the respect and affection of my husband, it was through education alone; the one thing which I was vehemently denied as it had nothing to do with marital bliss for a woman. How wrong they all were!’

  She paused and took a breath and then continued. ‘Whenever I came in contact of her, I realized how ordinary, how commonplace I was. The sense of my ignorance got more and more highlighted and there came a point when I thought the monkeys visiting me on the terrace where no better than me. I was falling into a depression as the sense of my own worthlessness bore down heavily upon me had I not met Pundit ji. He made me realize that I am here on this earth for a reason and there is nothing unworthy about my existence. He further told me that I was feeling so because I had not yet discovered my true purpose in life and that he would help me do so.’

  ‘What true purpose?’ I asked angrily. ‘Murdering innocent people? If that’s a purpose rather than a crime then I am afraid every criminal in jail must have had a good reason to kill another.’

  ‘I did not intend to kill her.’ Neelu said in a voice drained of all emotions. ‘Pundit ji follows ahimsa and condemns any form of violence…but he does advocate the doctrine that you should do everything in your power to protect your own happiness. He laughed at my inane belief that good women sacrifice themselves and keep their needs for the last. He said that your first priority should be you and none other. If everyone realizes their full worth; the reason for their existence then there would be not one unhappy soul on this planet. He told me that I should look closely and diagnose correctly what actually was the thing that was making me unhappy and once I had done so, I should look for ways to make that unhappiness go away; that I should leave no stone unturned to get that which would make me satisfied again. That’s exactly what I did. I diagnosed the problem in a thousand different ways and each time at the heart of it, sat one woman. Her.’