Bhrigu Mahesh, Phd

by Nisha Singh

  ‘Sir, why do you bother?’ said Nataraj Bhakti. ‘Your size would be too big for him anyways. I will get him his own.’

  I was hurt at this mention of my weight which had always been a sensitive matter with me, but I chose to take it in good humor. ‘He will have to keep it. I won’t have it back.’

  The boy looked at me with a sweet smile and said ‘Ma said that you were a good man.’

  ‘What?!’ I almost screamed. ‘Did…did she say it? What…what else did she say…?’

  ‘She…she…’ he stammered and then surely enough, fat tears rolled down his cheeks. Bhakti put his arms around him and said gently ‘Don’t cry, son. Your mother has not gone anywhere. She will always live in our hearts.’

  ‘Sir…’ he said in a heavy voice, while the child was still plastered to his chest. ‘I want her to pay for what she did. She has made this child an orphan! What I don’t understand is that why Bhrigu sir is so concerned about her? I am telling you, she is just faking that she has lost her mind. She is trying to evade arrest, that’s all. That woman is evil and she should be hanged for it!’

  I was getting very uncomfortable by this conversation and as the sky darkened, all I could hear was the sound of gentle sobbing and the noise of the crickets. I tried to offer some soothing words but none came out of my mouth. ‘When will this Premkala return from the mela? barked Bhakti, peering in the dark and still holding the boy. ‘It’s getting dark and there is no one to light the lamp or to prepare the food.’

  Just then I could heart foot falls behind me and I knew at once that they belonged to no one but my friend. I felt as if I had been given a new lease of life. I turned my head and saw that Bhrigu was striding towards us, lost in his own thoughts. Even before he could reach us, Nataraj Bhakti and Jeetu had retreated into the house to look for a lamp to light. After they had gone, I ran to my friend.

  ‘What took you so long?’ I cried. ‘I was half dead at the fair.’

  ‘Hmm.’ he replied, still looking lost.

  ‘What hmmm?’ I said, frustrated. ‘What were you doing? Did you get what you were looking for?’

  ‘Come to the room, Sutte.’ he said walking right through the door. ‘I will tell you what I saw.’

  We had to grope our way in the dark, lit only by our cell-phones and when we reached the landing, he made straight to the chair and sat there with a hand passing through his hair. I felt my way to the bed and tried squinting before my eyes could adjust to the dark.

  ‘Parichay Mishra is a mad man and of that I am certain.’ he said. ‘I have never seen a passion quite like his.’

  ‘Passion? What passion?’ I asked, intrigued.

  ‘A Passion to solve ancient riddles.’ he said. ‘You know, he has scribbled so many notes around the riddles that I thought I had to take a magnifying glass to read them all. He also has a small note book which he uses to record his “profound” observations.’

  ‘If his habit is strange then so is yours.’ I remarked dryly. ‘You too have many diaries and notebooks where you scribble your profound observations, remember?’

  ‘Yes.’ he replied with the touch of the acid. ‘But I don’t use my observations to turn people against each other now, do I?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He is trying to solve the riddles by using relationships that best mimic the conditions mentioned in it.’ said my friend, letting out a breath. ‘He is acting on the principle that if you have to know something intimately then you have to be it.’

  ‘Can you stop taking in riddles now?’ I said, impatiently. ‘Please be clear.’

  ‘Once in his lair, I found that he had turned a deep furrow in the temple wall as a closet to store his curiosities. Once he is done with it, the wall almost swallows his few articles. At first, I could find nothing at all in his corner, save a book on ‘Modern Principles’, a chair, a water-bottle and two ball-point pens. I had almost given up when I noticed a crack in the wall and my gut told me to follow it. The crack led me to the ingenious fissure-closet.’ He took his cell phone out of his pocket and enlarged an image. He then thrust it into my hand. ‘Read this.’

  The writing was a deep cursive and the paper had become yellow with age. I had to enlarge the image to two hundred percent when I could begin to make out the words. It read-

  ‘Strange are the ways of women, O Lord,

  If not mysterious, pray, what they may be?

  (Why you say thus dear friend?)

  For I happened to know a woman once, who was devilish so indeed,

  She smeared the face of a naïve beauty with coal black, paint and grease.

  (Why’s that, dear man?)

  Her Lord was said to watch her once and she could not resist,

  The temptation as powerful as the spell of the Jaiyu witch.

  Now tell me, o powerful one, for your wisdom is supreme,

  If her home is threatened by the charms of the seductive dame,

  How would the luckless wench now protect her husband’s name?’

  ‘What the hell is this?’ I asked, scratching my head.

  ‘This is that deadly poem that cost Savita her life.’ replied my friend grimly.

  ‘What? Are you out of your mind? How can a poem cost a life? That’s the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard in my life!’

  ‘It is ridiculous but true, nonetheless.’ he said with a sigh. ‘Now that you have read the poem, concentrate on all the scribbling that the man has done alongside it. You will fully understand the significance of what I have just said. The pages of his notebook are also to be considered. They all tell the same story.’

  I tried to stare at the screen and the headache that was already trying to slice my head, jumped down my neck and the lumbar area was soon throbbing with pain.

  ‘You know I have sinusitis.’ I complained. ‘And I still subjected myself to those loud speakers at the Ram-Leela only because of your orders. I am having a headache and you now want to worsen the attack my making me stare into your screen.’

  ‘I was helpless, Sutte.’ he said, apologetically. ‘I could not steal his things and the only way I could take them away was by getting a snapshot. Wait. I will read some of the paragraphs to you.’

  He enlarged the screen, frowned hard with concentration and began. ‘Why are women so strange? This passage correctly describes how complicated they are. “Strange are the ways of women” true, so true. They have been the same for thousands of years. If not, how could this old poem, apply to the woman of today? But it does. My wife, for instance. I haven’t seen a stranger woman than her. She keeps bothering me with this and that. And…and I try to please her. That day I brought her such a beautiful necklace. Thought she would like it; be pleased and shower me with her love but nothing of that sort happened. She just looked at it, gave me a half, ungrateful smile and pocketed it as if it was some trifle. She was complaining for jewelry for almost a year and now that I have got her one, she treats it like its nothing. So, indeed, she is strange.’

  ‘Wait a minute.’ I cried. ‘Parichay Mishra is married?’

  ‘Yes, he is.’ he replied. ‘But apparently, her wife has got lost in his limelight and hence no one bothered to mention her.’

  ‘So he is trying to understand the ways of his wife.’ I remarked.

  ‘And women in general.’ he said. ‘Listen to what he writes next. Although there are so many small notes, I am only reading the ones that will shed light on where this man is going with this obsession of his.’

  ‘I am reading another note.’ said my friend. ‘Women are strange because we don’t understand them. This is what I have been thinking for the past month. My wife was not pleased with the necklace because her wish was met but her greed was not. She is still hungry for more and can never be satisfied. Satisfaction would mean the end of her wishes and she is far from the end of her desires so
she cannot afford to look appeased. This I have understood about her and now that I understand her, I have the solution to this problem. Seeing that her wish-list is endless, I won’t entertain her anymore. That should set her straight. Like in this poem, the poet questions about the reason a woman feels so insecure about a “seductive dame” who threatens her home. Why did she smear her face with “coal black, paint and grease?” Jealousy? Probably.’

  ‘Now listen to this note here.’ said Bhrigu and began in a voice louder than before. ‘Today, after my discussion at the temple on “The Merit of Less”, I received a woman who looked much disturbed. Her name was Neelu. She wanted to see me and talk to me about her condition. She was a woman; a troubled woman, so naturally she roused my interest and curiosity. I knew she would give me a little more insight into the nature of women, so I invited her into my corner and asked about her problems. When she confided in me her trouble, I could see at once that she was afraid that her husband was growing closer to the woman he still loved. She said that the woman, Savita, was a good person and that she had nothing against her. She even said that she respected her but…and it was a big but…but she would like if her husband was not so very friendly with her. That’s all. I assured her that I would help her and when she was gone, I kept thinking about her problem. She wasn’t very unlike the woman in the poem who is jealous of another who has the attention of her “lord.” Can I not get the answer to this riddle through Neelu herself? What would she do if pushed to the extreme? What better way to know the answer than to let it unfold before you. That way, there will be no scope for ambiguity or confusion.’

  ‘Oh my god!’ I said, stunned. ‘Are you saying…are you saying that…?’

  ‘Yes.’ replied my friend. ‘He wanted to know the answer to the question asked in the poem and in the process he pushed a woman to her doom. He has recorded his every conversation with Neelu, while he was pushing her to her limits. Listen to this.’

  He cleared his throat and began. ‘She (Neelu) has started complaining a lot that her husband has never paid much attention to her. She said he has always stayed emotionally away and she has never felt that intimacy with her husband, the way a wife should. Not just a mere physical connection but a mental one, which is completely lacking in her case. I never offer any advice as if I did I would be tainting the natural reaction of the woman. I just offer mere suggestions and she takes them however her mind and character allows her too. In this instance, I suggested to her that she should do everything in her power to attract the attention of her husband and then kept quite. She sat before me mulling over my words and then left. I did not see her for two months next. The next time she came, I noticed that she had put on some very heavy make-up and looked quite ridiculous. The woman lacks elegance and her plain, dull mind was clear in the way she had done her face. In an effort to hide her lack of sophistication, she had overdone it and looked like a riot of colors! Well, I did not comment on her new passion but then she told me that it was her following my advice and, if I might add, quite literally at that. I had said that she should attract the attention of her husband and hence she was trying to look beautiful so that he would notice her more. But, alas, after one long look, he had not commented anything at all and was treating her quite the same as before.’ Bhrigu took a deep breath and then read. ‘It was then that I thought that it would be fun if I stoked her insecurities a little more and see what her plain, little mind would do next.’

  CHAPTER 44

  A Game of Riddles

  ‘This man is a sadist.’ I said, gnashing my teeth in anger. ‘A mad sadist. I can almost hear him chuckle with pleasure as you read the last line.’

  ‘He is devoid of feelings; a sociopath, true, but you will have to agree that he has a gift; a gift of persuasion, which he uses on his prey. That’s the reason why his discussions have caught the interest of this nation. Whatever he says leaves an impact and that’s the reason people can’t help but listen to whatever he has to say.’

  ‘Coming to think of it, he was very compelling when we met him for the first time.’ I said, remembering my first meeting with the Pundit. ‘He came in my dreams that night and the night after too. He has that magnetic personality which is very difficult to ignore.’

  ‘Yes and do you know why he is so persuasive?’

  ‘Why? You tell me.’

  ‘Because he is unaffected by the opinion of others.’ replied my friend. ‘He is a sociopath; a cold blooded man who can think. He is an enigma for others and hence they can’t help but get drawn towards him. Listen to another of his little entries.’

  ‘Why are women so dumb?’ began my friend. ‘Especially those that never leave the confines of their home? They always complain that nobody but their shadow enjoys their company but they never question why? If only they could question, the answer would be apparent to them. My wife, for instance. She has not studied much and is not knowledgeable about anything except for how many types of cooking oil there are and which type of curry will best suit a vegetable and she always complains to me that I do not listen to her. One day, getting tired of her protests, I tried. I talked to her about the new government and how the plans mentioned in its election manifesto would affect us, developing nation that we are. When I looked at her for her input, I saw that she was yawning with her mouth as wide open as her jaw could allow and her eyes were watering with the effort to restrain her sleep. What was the meaning of this? First, you complain that you are a shadow in your own home and when you are brought to the forefront, you long to walk into those shadows again! How ridiculous! “Strange are the ways of women” True, so true. This Neelu is no different from her sisterhood. She is slightly better than my wife in the fact that she understands her plight but she is completely clueless as to how to change her pitiable condition. She wants to dethrone her competition i.e. Savita but she has neither an army nor the proper weapons to do so. All she has is a burning will but wills never give you victories in a battle, resources and wit do, which she lacks. I have suggested to her this time that she should not let any woman come between her husband and her and that the holy institution of marriage requires total commitment and her husband should not be allowed to take it lightly. I also said to her that she should never put herself or her desires at last as such a practice is self-destructive and a short-cut to one’s own doom. One should always value oneself because that’s how we grow into better people. So now was the time to rise to the occasion and demand what was rightfully hers. She is now no longer passive and helpless as she was when I first met her but is full of that wonderful resolve which makes us do the most daring, unimaginable feats. But…’ He stopped.

  ‘But what?’ I cried. ‘What has the son of a *** written next?’

  Bhrigu clearly looked depressed. The dark writing was taking a toll on his otherwise buoyant spirits. ‘But…’ he hesitated and then began. ‘But as I just mentioned, she has neither the resources nor the wit to win her this battle and hence she would undoubtedly fail. That is bound to raise her temper. Let’s see how well she deals with this quagmire next. It is all very entertaining and I am gathering a load of information on the behavior of this type of woman. The plain, meek and submissive, that is. The meekness, I now know, is just a façade and that all women share the pangs of jealousy and possession alike. Very instructive.’

  ‘Now the last note.’ said Bhrigu and again hesitated a little before moving on. ‘I have just come to know from a source that Savita has been murdered! By Neelu, no doubt. I was not a little surprised when I heard this news. As I correctly concluded before, Neelu lacked the arsenal that would win her the battle she was fighting and this was a desperate battle which she must win. Hence, there was only one way open to her. Covert action. If she could not win the battle, fighting boldly at the front, she had to eliminate the enemy with a correctly timed sneak attack and that’s exactly what she did. She did not come to me after her guerrilla-type victory and that’s fine. She
is too terrified of the consequences now but I know that deep down she must be feeling a sense of elation; jubilation that she has achieved her goal. So now I can answer the riddle correctly. “How would the luckless wench now protect her husband’s name?” The answer is- Elimination. Very, instructive.’

  ‘The hideous creep!’ I shouted. ‘Come with me to the temple. Call the inspector too. We have enough evidence to indicate that Neelu had been but a pawn in this murder. She was just a tool, that’s all. A tool that would help him gain more “wisdom” on women. The sick freak! He should not be allowed to roam free!’

  ‘This is not enough for arrest, Sutte.’ Bhrigu said. ‘That man is well connected. Even if we do, he is bound to find a lawyer who will prove that his arrest is a joke. And for what would we arrest him? For aiding and abetting homicide? His lawyer would expertly play with the written words, as they all are trained to do, and prove that all he was doing was helping Neelu and there was no way for him to know that she would take this course. Also, it would be difficult even to get an arrest warrant against him. Whatever he wrote in the notebook were his private thoughts and thoughts, however dark they might be, are never enough for arrest. Action is. We have no case against him.’

  ‘So what can we do?’ I cried, helplessly.

  ‘We have to get a confession from him.’ replied my friend. ‘A direct confession where he accepts that his machinations were solely responsible for the actions of Neelu. Then we can capture him without the fear of his release.’

  ‘And you will do that?’

  ‘I will try my best.’ he replied. ‘Now get ready for another shock.’

  ‘Another shock?’

  ‘Yes. You remember when Neelu mentioned that she was seeing the Pundit, Manjunath almost blanched and after this disclosure he kept quite, as if he himself was guilty?’