Bhrigu Mahesh, Phd Read online

  BHRIGU MAHESH, PHD

  THE RETURN

  OF DAMAYANTI

  NISHA SINGH

  Copyright © 2017 by Nisha Singh.

  ISBN: Softcover 978-1-4828-8899-7

  eBook 978-1-4828-8898-0

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

  www.partridgepublishing.com/india

  Contents

  A Prologue

  Part 1

  Chapter 1 A Theory

  Chapter 2 A Tale

  Chapter 3 A Dissection

  Chapter 4 A Journey

  Chapter 5 A Tell Tale

  Chapter 6 A Village

  Chapter 7 An Old House

  Chapter 8 A Condition

  Chapter 9 An Introduction or Two

  Chapter 10 A Sad Woman

  Chapter 11 A Case In Point

  Chapter 12 A Friendly Visit

  Chapter 13 A Promise

  Chapter 14 A Late Night Vigil

  Chapter 15 A Loose Encounter

  Chapter 16 A Man-Child

  Chapter 17 A Man-Child Continued

  Chapter 18 A Pedantic Tour

  Chapter 19 A Wise Man

  Chapter 20 An Angry Host

  Chapter 21 A Story of Loss

  Chapter 22 A Slow Weekend

  Part 2

  Chapter 23 A Frantic Call

  Chapter 24 A Fancy Funeral

  Chapter 25 A Resolution

  Chapter 26 A Bereaved Room

  Chapter 27 A Police Chowki

  Chapter 28 A List of Suspects

  Chapter 29 A Curious Report

  Chapter 30 On A Scent

  Chapter 31 A-libis

  Chapter 32 A Warrant

  Chapter 33 A Hopeless Romeo

  Chapter 34 A Perfect Picture

  Chapter 35 A Heady Cocktail

  Chapter 36 A Peaceful Damyanti

  Chapter 37 A Woman Scorned

  Chapter 38 As Sweet as Revenge

  Chapter 39 A Green Fire

  Chapter 40 A Lost Refuge

  Chapter 41 A Second Parichay

  Chapter 42 A Peculiar Bird

  Part 3

  Chapter 43 A Closet of Curiosities

  Chapter 44 A Game of Riddles

  Chapter 45 A Vanity Trap

  Chapter 46 A Sound Flattery

  Chapter 47 A Whisper and Poof!

  Chapter 48 A Solution

  Chapter 49 A Lyrical Devotion

  Chapter 50 A Brahman Decoded

  An Epilogue

  A Flash File

  The Doctor’s Ward

  To my family and the hard working sleuth who was called The Bloodhound

  A Quick Word

  Before you proceed, I would like to draw your kind attention to the fact that you will find a, what I call, ‘Flash File’ at the end of the book. You will know all about it from Sutte once you reach there. So now you can turn this page.

  See you around.

  Nisha Singh

  5-3-2017

  A Prologue

  The palm leaves, delicately preserved, seemed as old as time. He knew that they had been in his family for generations; sitting there, tantalizing, enticing them to understand the reason for their existence but all his forefathers could accomplish was to stare at it with awe in their hearts and a deep fear that stems from reverence, stopping them from ever handling the holy antiquity. His father had once told him that he had tried once to convince his grandfather to sell the priceless palm leaves to a wealthy and generous antiquarian and make good with the money but his old man had warned him against any such action. It was believed that in the leaves, rested the souls of their Brahman ancestors and if they were to leave their possession, misfortunes would soon follow. The leaves were thus preserved and worshipped but never fully understood. His forefathers had been revered pundits, who were well-respected in his ancestral village as an authority on the Vedas, and they commanded a mastery over the Sanskrit language but still they never tried to work the puzzles in any meaningful way, content only to possess them. His father had said to him when he was just a teenager- ‘Son, the content of the poem is light; simple riddles designed for entertainment only but they are valuable to us as physical proofs of the blessings of our forefathers. Never question their significance. That would amount to sacrilege.” He, though, did not belong to the same school of thought. He was evolved enough not to suffer from any such religious dogma and he also knew almost instinctively that these archaic leaves were no less than a veritable gold mine or else who could explain its reputation as a heirloom in the family, precious enough to be passed down to posterity? If they were indeed light entertainment, their ancestors would never have taken the care to preserve them so that they were never ravaged by the elements of nature. Was it not the desperate hope that one day the paper would meet its match and the real meaning behind the ancient puzzles crafted in an exquisite mixture of Sanskrit and Pali would finally be solved? From the moment he had come of age, he had become obsessed with the poems; trying to understand the riddles which teased him like the flirtatious overtures of a nymph who beckons but never ever succumbs.

  He would sit for hours poring over the brittle, delicate leaves that still exuded the majestic charm of a rich, old world. It was an old pastime; a game, and of that everyone was certain. But he firmly believed that the “light pastime” was meant for enlightenment more than entertainment but the question remained as to how they were to be worked so that the wisdom hidden in the lines would become apparent. His obsession with the game had reached such a dizzying height that no amount of pressure from his family, especially his wife, could bring him back to deal with matters that required his immediate attention. He was no longer concerned with the bills that came like tides; each more powerful than the one before. Why should he seek to laboriously ride each and every wave when the alternative was to intelligently play the game, exploit the wisdom for his profit and reach the shore, safe and sound? Why should he struggle with his job; dying every day with no savings to account for in the end, not a single penny left for him to enjoy? There was no logic behind leaving the leaves and diverting his attention towards the quotidian activities that take little by little of life and gives nothing but a slow and miserable death in return.

  After a couple of years devoted to the study of the ancient, sacred languages, he had started to see a faint light of meaning emerge behind the darkness which grew stronger with every passing day. He was happy indeed in the thought that he was now on the road to success and that he would never have to see the grotesque face of challenges and hardships ever again.

  PART 1

  CHAPTER 1

  A Theory

  ‘Sometimes I wonder about the differences between the sexes and the more I wonder, the stronger becomes my belief in the fact that nature never meant them to come together but the ingenuity and adaptability of man has seen to it that such togetherness is made possible and we even have a formal name for it. Marriage.’

 
I gaped at my friend in such a manner that he couldn’t help laughing.

  ‘You look like one of those halibut fish I once saw on the Animal Planet. Give it an electric shock and it would look just like you.’

  I closed my mouth hurriedly. ‘Your theories never fail to shock the daylights out of me.’ I said ‘if men and women weren’t supposed to come together, in what way, pray tell, was our species to move forward?’

  He laughed at the top of his exemplary lungs, leaving me to wonder at the incognito humor of what I had just observed. ‘Why Sutte? Is it not biologically possible to mate without marriage? Is there some facility required for reproduction that is only made available after one has repeated the sacred vows of matrimony? There are millions of species on the planet and only one among them is supposed to follow the ritual of marriage, if they happen to develop an affection for each other i.e. Homo sapiens. Not just that. If, God forbid, that affection does not blossom into love, they are compelled to carry the burden of a dead relationship and thus destroy the remotest of possibility of finding true happiness. We say we are free creatures but how can we be free in the true spirit of the word when each one of us is bound by the garroting chains of matrimony that is rapidly making slaves of us all?’

  ‘But…but…mating without marriage would amount to sin! How could you even say such an immoral thing?’

  ‘And why is that such an immoral thing, Sutte? Nature meant every creature to be free and happy…it never built such institutions, we did. So how can you be so sure that the people who invented marriage weren’t immoral themselves? It’s the chicken-egg conundrum. How could you know for sure that marriage was instituted to declare all extra marital affairs as sin or extra marital affairs were somehow displacing the personal interests of our ancestors and hence they instituted marriage? You can never be sure. You can never be sure of anything man made. Only one thing you can rely on. Nature. And Mother Nature never requires a legal form from us, to give us a right to love.’

  ‘So…so you’re saying that marriages should be wiped off? Family values should be annulled? A child should not have a happy home to call it his own?’

  ‘Each one of those things is possible Sutte…’ He said after a brief pause ‘Even without having to marry. And children who are caught in the struggles of a difficult marriage are way too unhappy than those living in a loving relationship, as long as it stays that way. Marriage is the materialization of sympathy between two people and nothing else. Compare that sympathy to a rose. A flower of rose is a true symbol of beauty and grace. You admire its beauty and intoxicating fragrance. But someday a greedy businessman chances upon that rose and decides to turn it into his own profit. He plucks it, processes it and turns it into a product say rose water. The rose water has the rose in it but would it give you the sheer joy than when you beheld it in its natural beauty?’

  ‘Are you trying to say…’ I said after a quick series of gulps ‘that love or sympathy as you call it is rose and marriage is like…is like…’

  ‘A branded rose water. Yes.’ he completed the analogy for me.

  I tried to digest what he had just said and his theory seemed more outrageous by the minute. ‘If I give in to your bizarre opinion, tell me, why did you first declare that men and women were not meant to come together?’

  ‘Because a man and a woman are as similar to each other as a spotted leopard and a laughing hyena.’ he said somberly.

  ‘Don’t tell me that you have graphs and charts to prove it.’

  ‘I don’t, as of now.’ he said with amusement ‘But I have sown the seeds of my research in that direction. Let me assure you, my data points to a rising consciousness in people regarding this sentiment as the incidences of divorces become as commonplace as they had never been before. Man has finally begun to realize the absurdity of this useless institution which has held him captive for centuries.’

  ‘Try legalizing adultery too then.’

  ‘Adultery has a meaning through the concept of marriage. If there was no such thing as marriage, there would be no meaning of adultery.’

  ‘Your theories are getting bolder.’ I said caustically.

  ‘It’s not a theory but an observation.’

  ‘I give up.’ I cried ‘But I do not concede. I think there is lot of good to be had from happy marriages.’

  ‘Happy marriage?’ he laughed a laugh loaded with cynicism. ‘The term is a euphemism and nothing more.’

  We were comfortably ensconced on the couch in Bhrigu’s reading room, having this not so comfortable conversation over cups of coffee and hot cauliflower pakoras, a specialty of Bhrigu’s one man army for domestic work, Ponalla. He was the native of a small town in Kerela and spoke fluent Malayalam interspersed with broken English. I was about to have my second helping when he came in and announced ‘Daisy madam at the door.’

  ‘Daisy?’ Bhrigu asked surprised. ‘This time of the day? Has she not gone to her shop today?’

  ‘Shall I ask her that?’ Ponalla questioned. He had an annoying habit of taking things at their literal value. No doubt we never quoted a proverb in his presence.

  ‘No, appa. Just let her in.’

  I straightened myself on the couch, anxious to make myself presentable to a lady. Bhrigu didn’t mind much. He and Daisy had become good friends in the past couple of months and he was as comfortable with her as he was with me. In under a minute, she was in the room donning a half smile that so became her. Although it gave her a perpetual air of cynicism, as I said before, it somehow suited her all too well. Well, before providing a description of her, I must warn my readers that the adjective of a ‘lady’ that I had used with respect to her was more out of chivalry than anything else. Once I ascertain that the person standing before me belongs to the opposite sex, I waste no time in treating her like a lady. I have my gentle upbringing to account for this quality/weakness of mine. You see, Daisy would be the last female on the planet, who could qualify to be a ‘lady’ as she did not have any of those qualities which the thesaurus would come up if you happen to look up that word. She had an athletic physique; sinewy rather than graceful, courtesy the gym where she was a regular menace, er, presence. She had black hair cropped so short that one had to look very close to actually believe that she was not altogether bald. She used an electric shaver to style her hair and never let it grow beyond half an inch. Her oval face could have been gentle had she not been so hell bent on carrying that cynical expression that, as I observed before, became her. Her eyes were big and black with a weird glint that supported her cynical smile. It was a sparkle of perpetual amusement; a sort of mockery that is very hard to understand at a first glance. She had pierced her ears at three locations, starting at the ear lobe upwards. Her forearms were tattooed with the figures of popular football players, the one game she adored, resulting in her becoming the owner of a big, sports merchandise shop financed by her affluent family. The tattoos were temporary and the players changed every month. She always wore a dark colored T-shirt and baggy jeans, sometimes shorts, a big sports wristwatch and a sports cap. The only female thing that I could spot on her person was her nail paint but it wasn’t much of a consolation either as the color was a glossy shade of black. Her general air was that of a sports geek cross gym trainer cross hippie and I swear the first impression that she drew from anyone was that of shock gently giving way to surprise which gently faded into amusement.

  ‘Oh hello Bhrigu boss!’ she shouted in her deep, husky voice that one could place somewhere between a man and a woman.

  ‘Hello Daisy.’ replied my friend, beaming. ‘You are here today at an unusual hour for you.’

  ‘Yup.’ she said diving into one of those hot pakoras. ‘I closed my shop early today.’

  ‘Why is that Ms. Daisy?’ I asked.

  ‘Because Sutte ji’ she said putting an emphasis on ji, as was her custom while addressing me. ‘I did not feel like working all
day today. Is that not a good reason?’

  I preferred to keep quiet on her rhetorical question.

  ‘So, what’s up?’ she asked, chewing the pakora greedily.

  ‘Nothing much.’ Bhrigu said ‘Sutte and I were having a debate on marriage. Let’s see whose side you’re on.’

  ‘But what’s the debate? And since when did marriage become such an important issue to have a debate on?’

  I mentally knocked my head against the wall. Talk of kindred souls.

  ‘The debate was whether not to altogether remove this practice of marriage.’ said Bhrigu with a smile. ‘You would beg to differ?’

  ‘I?’ she said, almost shrieking the syllable. ‘God no! The one thing I hate more than the Last season of EPL where my team came third is marriage.’

  ‘Your reasons?’

  ‘It’s more personal than anything else.’ she said; now eyeing the one solitary pakora kept on the plate. ‘My mother, as you well know, has developed this annoying habit of pestering me with the photos of eligible grooms the moment I turned twenty six. Only I know how I have been resisting her undying efforts for the past two years. She made such a racket when after college I decided to open a Sports Shop that I had to sleep for two days at a friend’s house! She said it was and I quote ‘improper’. Hell, I would do anything to strike off this term “Marriage” from the face of this earth. No marriage, no tension’s my motto.’ She finally succumbed to the temptation and snatched the savory off the plate ‘Bhrigu boss, do whatever you can in this direction. For me, you will be a crusader and I’ll become your biggest follower.’

  Bhrigu laughed a gay laugh and I could only half suppress a giggle. ‘See, Sutte, Daisy is one with me on this.’

  She vigorously shook her head, showing her support.

  ‘Yes’ I retorted ‘but you would need more than Ms. Daisy to launch your movement.’