by Nisha Singh
‘A very potent tool, yes.’ replied the man, saying each word slowly and carefully.
‘So, was today’s lecture, a step towards evolution too?’
‘That’s correct.’ he replied at once. I could see that his eyes were shining and he looked as excited as a child on the idea of going to the fair. ‘In fact, the key to our evolution lies in the female of our species.’ He paused and looked intensely at my friend for a few seconds and then resumed. ‘All the signs that we have received till the beginning of our civilization, points us in that direction. We are the way we are and not what we were promised to become owning to the fact that we made one big mistake that cost us our development into finer, more sophisticated creatures and not the primitive version that we are now.’
‘And what’s that?’ I asked at once.
‘We ignored women.’ he replied, with his eyes still on fire. ‘Man was frightened of her immense potential and hence he subjugated her through his physical strength. He made rules that would never allow her to reach her true potential and tied her behind the smokescreen of their house. He kicked her, humiliated her, enslaved her only because he was afraid that once she realizes what she is, she would take control and he would become irrelevant. And that’s when we seriously jeopardized our chance at becoming the species we were always meant to be.’
‘And all because men dominated women?’ I asked and remembered all those times that I had laughed at the gay manner of my female cousins. I felt just a tinge of guilt in the presence of a man who, no doubt, considered any female, worthy of worship. But, in my defense, they always asked what was coming to them. There. I said it.
‘Exactly.’ he replied, barging in on my train of thoughts. ‘Women have a far more sophisticated mind than men. In them, god laid the seed for evolution and meant her to take control but he underestimated the one power that he had given man. He gave us physical strength and that we have used to dominate her and to never let her know her true calling.’
‘But greater physical strength could also mean that men…’ I began.
‘If that was the case.’ he spat back. ‘If physical strength was to be a factor that determined who would rule and who would not, then humans would not be the superior of all other species. Animals living in the wild have far greater strength than us, why pray, are they then banished to the jungles while we enjoy the fruits of development? It’s never about brawn. It’s all about wisdom, ingenuity and intellectual maturity.’
‘And how do you propose women take what is rightfully theirs?’ my friend asked, intrigued.
‘Why? By asserting themselves, of course. I am afraid there is no other way.’ The man replied with conviction. ‘Each time a woman asserts herself, she will be making her voice heard and each time her voice is heard, people will take notice of her and she will become the harbinger of change.’
Bhrigu’s silence helped in stroking the fires of curiosity in the man. Lugubriously, he bent a little forward in his seat and said. ‘Sir, last time I met you, you greatly puzzled me with what you said. I kept thinking about it and the more I reflected, the stranger it seemed. Why are you holding your views on this matter? Do you also belong to the class of men who call themselves “Chauvinists?” I am surprised if you are one because you look way too refined to be one of them.’
‘I have other matters weighing on my mind, Pundit ji.’ said my friend. ‘That’s all.’
‘Other matters?’
‘Yes. There has been a murder in the village and the woman was related to my close friend. Her name was Savita. We were hardly recovering from this terrible blow when we received another. The culprit was caught yesterday and she turned out be none other than the wife of a friend again, Neelu. Neelu is your follower. She has attended quite a number of your sessions. Do you remember her?’
‘Neelu?’ said the man, feigning total ignorance. ‘I am afraid I have not. There are so many people who come to listen to me. It’s next to impossible for me to know each and every one of them. I get a load of e-mail daily. I try to at least reply them all.’ he took a breath and said ‘But if you were so troubled, why did you come to my discussion? Do you think I can help you in any way? If so, please do. From the moment I first met you, I have got this feeling that we would make great friends.’
‘As a matter of fact, yes, I was hoping you would help me.’ said he ‘You see, Neelu was not quite in her right mind when she committed this murder. I got to know that she was coming to you for the past few months. I thought that if she was in a dialogue with you, it would come very useful in shedding some light on her state of mind during that period. At any rate, it would help with her insanity defense.’
‘I am sorry, sir.’ replied the Pundit, showing great concern on his face. ‘I would have liked to be of help but as I said before, this woman, Neelu, never interacted with me privately and so I do not I know her. I am sorry.’
‘That’s quite alright.’ said my friend with a sigh. ‘We will have to look in other direction then, I suppose. Anyways, thank you, Pundit ji, for your precious time. We will be taking your leave now.’
‘Please come again if you like.’ The man said as we stood up. ‘I greatly enjoy your stimulating company.’
‘Worry not, sir.’ said Bhrigu with a smile. ‘I have a feeling that we will meet again very soon.’
CHAPTER 42
A Peculiar Bird
‘What are you planning to do next?’ I asked, after we had come back to our room at Bhakti Niwas.
‘I have an idea and if everything goes well, it can work.’ he replied, sprawling on the bed with his hands beneath his head, staring at the dusty beams of the ceiling. ‘Parichay Mishra is a far more dangerous man than I thought he was. The worse thing about him is that his seemingly radical ideas have a ring of truth and that’s what makes him much more believable than he would otherwise be. That’s the sole reason why he got to Neelu so easily.’
‘What is this plan you are talking about?’ I asked, intrigued. ‘And for what are we going to catch him? He has not done anything wrong in the eyes of the law. He just gives advice and offers opinions. What are we accusing him of exactly?’
‘We are not going to catch him red handed, Sutte, if that’s what you mean because you are right when you said that he has not done anything wrong in the eyes of the law but what we are going to do is to stop his influence on people by scaring him enough.’
‘Scaring him? Of what?’
‘Of his own ideas.’ he replied, as he sat on the bed cross-legged and searched under the pillow for his mint gums. He always had this habit of keeping one under his pillow so that he could get one whenever he wanted. He located a slim packet hiding in a corner, un-wrapped it and threw it into his mouth with a relish.
‘Chiranjeev is his friend, right?’ he asked, contentedly chewing the gum. ‘We will have to get more information on this man if we are to know how he became what he is today. Then only we can devise a good strategy.’
Take the name of the devil and here he comes. Bhrigu was about to get off the bed to go look for the man when I saw the curtain to the door move to a side and a familiar head peeking in.
‘Sir…um…are you free?’
‘Ah! Chiranjeev!’ said my friend happily. ‘The very man I wanted to see! Please, do come in.’
He came in with a shy smile on his face and sat on the stool opposite us. ‘I came here to tell you that Dushehera is round the corner and I am playing the role of Bajrang Bali. Will you care to come and see the show? I will arrange for front row seats.’
‘Of course, of course. Why not?’ Bhrigu replied with a broad smile. ‘I am sure you would give a terrific performance.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ he said, with a smile bright enough to compete with the sun and shifted in his seat with pride and elation.
‘Is your friend, Pundit Parichay Mishra, going to attend the show?’
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p; ‘Yes…yes.’ said Chiranjeev quickly. ‘You both are my chief guests. I have already talked to him and he has kindly accepted it. For the last two years he has been coming to see the Ram-Leela. He always praises my performances.’
‘Who won’t?’ replied my friend. ‘This…this friend of yours…He is a very interesting man. Can you tell me how he was as a child?’
‘He was a quiet bird, sir, very quiet.’ replied Chiranjeev. ‘He always had a lost look on his face, like his mind was somewhere else and some of the bullies called him a “Mook Badhir (Deaf-mute)”. He, though, never retaliated once and went about his work quietly. He was a bright student and always came in first or second but the teachers were never much fond of either him or his reticence and he did not seem to care. I think they thought him rude and manner-less. Sir, when a person keeps to himself, people form their own opinions about him and the same happened with him. It was not long enough that with those opinions came terrible rumors and some of them were quite spine chilling. One of the boys, I don’t know who, started this rumor that he was a vampire who had come to prey on us and that’s why he was the way he was. The rumor only got dispelled when his father, the pundit, came to see the principal and asked for this mischief to be put to end at once. After that, we were properly scolded by our class teacher and we stopped teasing him but no one spoke to him either because he had been the reason we had all gotten so thoroughly scolded.’ He took a breath and then began. ‘The teachers disliked him and that was clear in the way they never bothered with him in anyway. They could not scold him, mind you, because he never gave them any reason to. He did his home-work, studied well and always took the first or the second rank. So, they tolerated him but as he sat their staring at them while they taught, it got on their nerves, sir, and once or twice they sent him outside the class just because he was caught staring belligerently at them!’
‘He was indeed peculiar.’ I observed.
‘That he was.’ replied Chiranjeev. ‘And you know how he spent his free time?’
‘How?’ we asked together.
‘While the rest of us made a din and threw paper-planes at each other, he would quietly sit at a corner and read old, very old papers.’
‘Old papers?’
‘Yes sir, old papers. They had become all wrinkly and yellow due to age and he would sit poring over them as they…as they were showing a matinee or something.’ he said and he laughed heartily. ‘Sometimes the bullies would steal those papers and run and that was the only time he would betray strong emotion. He would clench his teeth and run after them hurling invectives. He would only relax when they returned those papers to him. That’s how odd he was.’
‘But…but how did he become your friend?’ Bhrigu asked.
‘Sir, he was never my friend when we were actually in our school together. He was too much of a loner to make any friends and nobody cared much for his gloomy ways either. And anyways, he left school after matriculation. Later, we came to know that he had gone to the city for further education. He was a ghost while he was with us and when he was gone, we scarcely felt his absence. The teachers too, took a breather and they were a lot relaxed now that he was gone.’
‘A child who could so upset grown-ups?’ said Bhrigu almost to himself.
‘I made his acquaintance…’ went on Chiranjeev. ‘…when he came back to the village, seven years ago. I did not even recognize him when I first met him and he was the one who jogged my memory. I wonder how he knew who I was. I had changed a lot since our school days. I asked after him and how his life had been and he said that he had taken a degree in scriptures from a prestigious university and had become a professor there, after completing his masters. He said that he was enjoying his job when he heard of his father’s demise. He came to the village for the last rites but went back soon after. He did not return for a decade after that but then this village, Krishna Dwar, came into the limelight for all the efforts taken by the government for the renovation of its four mighty temples and the project became a hit. The place was attracting a lot of tourists, both from India and abroad and there was this vacancy for four learned Pundits to preside over the four magnificent temples. Bhanuk; that’s what his name was before he changed it to what it is today, also applied for it and they selected him for one as his credentials were quite impressive. Now, along with the temples, he, too, has become a sight of attraction. You have heard of his terrific discussions, haven’t you, sir?’
‘Yes, although you forgot to tell us.’
‘Did I?’ he said with a hint of surprise. ‘I…I must have forgotten, then. Anyways, as I was saying, he was the one who sought me out and I was surprised to see how much he had changed. From a quiet boy with peculiar habits to a man of the world and the way he spoke was nothing short of…short of…impressive. Yes sir, impressive.’
‘He must have still retained some of his old habits?’ asked Bhrigu.
‘Not much…but…only one, I think.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Sir, he has his own place; his lair, if you will, at the temple. When he is free, he retires there with an obscure book in his hand. He does not let anyone there, not even me. So that’s one thing which reminds me of his fondness for odd things. It was those papers in his childhood and now it is that…that lair.’
‘Chiranjeev ji.’ Bhrigu said with a smile. ‘I can’t wait to see your performance. I have a feeling that you will surpass even yourself.’
By the look on his face, I knew that he was excited and also that it had nothing to do with the performance or the Ram-Leela.
PART 3
CHAPTER 43
A Closet of
Curiosities
Fifteen days of suspended action and the day of Dussehera was upon us. The last two weeks had seen a lot of scribbling by my friend in his diary and a couple of trips to the district hospital of Chambul to see how Neelu was faring. She had come to her senses but the doctor was keeping her heavily sedated as she was in the habit of breaking into hysterical fits. Her condition deeply upset my friend and I did my best to cheer him up a trifle. Manjunath Gupta remained by his wife’s side every waking moment but the blank look on his face was a witness to the fact that the shock of the tragedy had numbed him and he was going through his duties mechanically. Nataraj Bhakti would also come to support his friend but he kept his distance from Neelu, and I could see that he thought of her as a murderer and nothing more. At last, when Manjunath could not handle the antagonism of our client, he had politely requested him to leave him alone. Nataraj Bhakti had pleaded to us to see that justice was served, whereas, his best friend had asked us if we were doing anything for the insanity defense for his wife and Bhrigu had assured him that he would do everything in his power to help Neelu. He was just waiting for Dusshehera and now it was upon us.
‘You will attend the show alone.’ he told me, the day before. ‘I have better things to do.’
I did not argue with him as I knew it was useless. I will never forget the Dussehera that I celebrated at Krishna Dwar. It was no spectacular affair and Manjunath was Manjunath on stage but with a crown, a red face and a tail. His tail acted far better than he himself ever did as it bounced all over the stage that we were to believe was Lanka being set on an imaginary fire. The company that I had wasn’t very encouraging either and all along I felt as if I was sitting beside a ghost that neither cheered, nor clapped or tried in any way to reply to my humble enquiries. I guess all his energies were reserved for his discussions alone. So, all in all, the affair turned out to be a damp squib, and I have yet to see a damper one.
I was tired when I reached back home and my head was trying to split in half with the terrible pain that the loudspeakers had induced. My stomach was groaning with me and I cursed myself for eating way too many spicy pakoras than my delicate digestive system could safely allow. I wanted to return back as soon as the Natak had but started but my friend had given me stri
ct orders that I was to remain at the fair and keep an eye out for Parichay Mishra. I was to call him at once if the Pundit decided to return to the temple early. Hence, I had to sit for three long hours and only when I got a message from him declaring that all was clear, I made for my journey back home. When I returned, I saw that Nataraj Bhakti was idling outside the house. With him was Savita’s son, Jeetu. They both were arranging pots of plants around the door and on seeing me, he said with a smile ‘Sir, did you enjoy the mela? You look very tired, though.’
‘That I am.’ I said, as I observed that the teenage boy was looking at my coat in amazement. ‘Your brother was very active today.’
‘He is a joke, that’s what he is.’ he said with disgust. ‘I have advised him to do some useful work; to learn a skill, but all he does is to loaf about the village and reduce my name to dust. Every year I dread this festival because he makes such a fool of himself! I stop going to Kallan’s tea shop for a month afterwards because all gathered there would make fun of his performance, asking me what kind of training had I given him. I don’t know why he is so hell bent on ostracizing me socially.’
‘He likes acting, so let him.’ I advised and when I saw that the boy was still looking at my coat, I asked politely- ‘Do you want it?’
He did not reply but looked at his uncle expectantly. ‘You are a rich boy.’ said Bhakti, taking his nephew’s face tenderly in his hand. ‘You can buy ten such coats. Next time whenever I go to the city, I will get you one, alright?’
‘Thank you, mama ji!’ cried the boy happily and embraced his uncle. I was happy to see that the boy was loved and cherished even after his parents were no longer with him. He was such a gentle lad with just a hint of moustache appearing above his lip. In his deep, black eyes, I could clearly see Savita and my heart instantly went out to the little fellow. Involuntarily, I took off my coat and wrapped it around him. ‘It’s yours.’ I said with a smile. ‘And if you want you can come to my room. I have a similar one like this. If you want, you can keep it too.’