Bhrigu Mahesh, Phd Page 3

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You don’t know?’

  ‘Yes.’ he replied with a deep sigh ‘The third phase of the haunting so jolted my nerves that I did not wait to witness the fourth phase…I took Prasadu’s advice and came running to you, sir’

  Bhrigu positioned his chair in a way that he was now facing the man and looking him straight in the eye. He held the gaze of Nataraj Bhakti for a few seconds and then said ‘Mr. Bhakti, do you think I have the authority to deal with ghosts? Do you think I am a brass hat in the world of the preternatural that they would listen to me?’

  The man fumbled for words and then said diffidently ‘Sir, I am a hard working man whose life has always been ruled by the clock. I seldom have had time to watch a movie let alone indulge in any kind of gossip. My life has never ever been colorful or glamorous. It has been simple, straight forward and an exercise in routine. I was twenty five when I got the job and over the years rose to the rank of a head clerk before I retired, following the same routine over and over again. If someone plans on writing my biography, he could successfully complete it in a paragraph. I don’t and can’t tell tales. If I had that talent, I could have never survived my job.’ he sighed again and then began ‘I know you are a detective but Prasadu told me that you are not just any detective. You have a presence that is very reassuring. You are someone very special as your skills come from the heart and not just the brain. Sir, it’s not because of the truant phantom alone that I have approached you but I have come here as a deeply troubled man seeking advice, support and comfort. Please, sir, I want you to come with me to my village. If I once hear from your mouth that the phantom is just a manifestation of my imagination and nothing else, I would never bother you or anyone again. Your word will be final.’

  Bhrigu moved his gaze away from the man and contemplated the air just above his head. He then smiled slowly and said ‘Before coming with you, I would want to ask a question.’

  Nataraj Bhakti nodded his head in all eagerness.

  ‘Do you live alone in your house?’

  ‘No sir, I don’t’ he replied with a frown ‘My ancestral house is in the name of us two brothers and two sisters. I share my house with my younger brother, Chiranjeev and his family. My eldest brother lives in the city and visits us once a year. My elder sister died two years ago. The youngest of all the siblings is Savita who is a widow and lives with us with her fifteen year old son.’

  I was surprised to hear that the man did not occupy the house alone. In his account he had not revealed in any way that he shared his dwelling with his relatives. Surely, his relatives must have had to go through the same eerie experience and hence it was but logical for him to give us their end of the story too. That alone could have made his case look strong.

  ‘Why did you not mention this before?’

  A look of disgust leveled the pain convulsing his face. ‘Why should I mention them, sir? They are nothing but trouble to me.’

  ‘But did they not share your experiences?’ I asked with a touch of impatience.

  ‘No sir. They did not.’ he replied ‘You see, my ancestral house is very big, indeed. They occupy other sections of the house and we rarely meet save for lunches and dinners. The haunting has only affected the part of the house which I inhabit and the kitchen. I do not trust them enough to share my sorrows with them. I was close only to my eldest sister who died. I care a pittance for the rest of them. They are nothing but illiterate brutes.’

  ‘Are you sure they saw or hear nothing? Even brutes have sense organs.’ Bhrigu asked.

  ‘No sir, they did not’ he replied with visible irritation. ‘Believe me, if they had any idea about the presence of a preternatural entity living with them, they would have lost no time in losing their heads and bleating about it to anyone in the village who would care to listen. They just love idling and gossiping and don’t care if it comes at their expense. The brutes.’

  Bhrigu looked at the man for a brief moment and then announced his decision ‘I would definitely take your case. I am busy for a week but I will intimate you as soon as I am free. We can then make our journey together to your village. What was the name again?’

  ‘Krishna Dwar.’

  CHAPTER 3

  A Dissection

  No longer had Nataraj Bhakti disappeared through the door, Bhrigu turned his chair to its zero position and said ‘Quite an interesting fellow, Mr. Bhakti. He is a very atypical clerk.’

  ‘Atypical clerk?’ I asked ‘I know he has a rather interesting personality but I bet you must have seen idiosyncrasies in him that my eyes failed to notice?’

  ‘Well, that depends on your angle and mine. What was your angle?’

  ‘Angle?’

  ‘Yes, angle.’ he replied with a smile. ‘Let me paraphrase my question. You give me your description of him and I will give you your angle, alright?’

  ‘Hmmm’ I said putting pressure on my bean. ‘Let me think. Well, I feel that the man can make lively conversation. The way he spoke hinted at articulation and thought. Also, he is one of those few individuals who know what and who they really are. The way he spoke of his own handicap at imagination, reveals that he has no shame in accepting who he really is. That alone tells me that he is a secure, confident person. To sum him up, Mr. Nataraj Bhakti is a no-nonsense, confident, lively man albeit depressed owning his current circumstances.’ I said and then quickly added ‘And yes, he clearly loves his wife.’

  ‘Your angle then,’ Bhrigu replied promptly ‘is obtuse.’

  ‘An obtuse angle, huh? I don’t think it was meant as a compliment?’

  ‘I just gave my opinion. It is not meant to be taken as anything else.’

  ‘And what do you mean by an obtuse angle?’

  He inhaled deeply, tapping his knuckles like a musician and replied ‘Obtuse angle means you saw what was apparent; what was staring you in your face. What you failed to notice were the nuances that speak of a truer character; the finer details that once put together reveal the correct identity of a person but, to your credit, they are very easy to overlook as they hide behind the visible exterior that men put up like a shield, to conceal their true nature.’

  ‘Really?’ I said with part mockery part curiosity ‘Then give me your angle on him. I bet it would be acute?’

  ‘Yes.’ He said with a patronizing smile that I detested with all my being. ‘The acute angle brings to the surface the finer details, however hard they try to lurk behind the visible exterior. I would now do nothing but break your analysis into finer points and you at once would be able to see what you previously missed. Alright?’

  I stiffly nodded my head.

  ‘You first said that you thought Nataraj Bhakti was lively and articulate. This you must have gleaned from the way he narrated his suffering. No dull man is capable of such an animated, witty tale telling. What you failed to notice was that he wasn’t comfortable while he was at it. He kept looking at the metal tortoise as I saw you noticing too and he also kept glancing at his watch now and then. These are nervous ticks that never happen to people who have the gift of the gab. However troubled they might be, once they start to talk, their power of oration compels them to forget their woes for the time when they have captured the attention of their audience. They revel in the feeling, they do not get nervous.’

  ‘So you mean to say that he was putting up an act? But why?’

  ‘Because he desperately wanted our help. He is genuinely troubled and we are his last hope. He wanted to excite us enough that we would be compelled to take on the case. There’s nothing wrong in that. The effort, though, took a toll on him. He was perspiring when he was finished with his narration.’

  There was a brief pause as I waited for him to complete the analysis. He tapped his knuckles rhythmically and I had a feeling that he really knew the tune that he now worked on his knuckles. After he was done with this
irritating habit that he had recently picked up from a client, he resumed ‘Coming to the rest of it. You said that Nataraj Bhakti was a secure person solely because he had the guts to accept freely his shortcomings. Well, you are right when you say that he knows of his weaknesses but you are wrong when you say that that makes him a secure person. From where did you get the notion that people who are confident in their own skin, talk about it unabashedly in public?’

  ‘Why? Any person who isn’t comfortable with his own personality will always try to project himself as someone he wishes he was and not who he really is. Is not this effect, as you would call it, quite well established?’ I retorted hotly.

  He was now grinning broadly reducing me to burnt embers that smoldered and threatened to catch fire at the slightest of sparks. The man had a gift of steeping on my nerves and boy how he relished it.

  ‘That is the accepted view but I think it was propagated by an insecure philosopher who wanted the world to believe that his pathetic torrents were the result of his own confidence in himself. Trust me, whatever I say is backed by exhaustive research and you know that the conclusions of my researches are conclusive.’

  ‘And what’s your conclusion then?’

  ‘My research supports my theory that people who are confident would never, ever acknowledge their flaws in public; to the mirror, to the one person they are the most comfortable with, to themselves, perhaps, but never, ever in public. Nataraj Bhakti, most definitely, does not belong to that class of men. And about the part where he said that he loves his wife…’

  ‘Doesn’t he?’ I asked

  ‘Well, that part of the question will settle my claim that the institution of marriage should be wiped off from the face of this earth.’ he noisily breathed in and continued ‘The equation Nataraj Bhakti shared with his wife has three variable factors which are subject to change given the mood, situation, time and place. The only constant factor that never changes is derived from the archaic law which states that “All men must work without to earn and provide for their family and all women must work within to nourish and nurture their family.” All the variable factors are worked in such a way that they make a stable equation which in turns goes to satisfy the law stated above.’

  I eagerly nodded my head to show that I understood but in reality I had not grasped the head or tail of his weird theory.

  ‘The variables differ from person to person and in Bhakti’s case there are three- 1) The appreciation that he has for his wife for being a hard worker 2) The resentment he entertains for her not being easy going enough and 3) The frustration he feels for her obsession with a mere comb.’

  ‘And how do these variables affect the equation of their relationship? As their marriage survived, it must have followed the law.’ I said now sensing through the fog what he was trying to say.

  ‘Yes. And if you had only cared to go through what I had just said, you would have gotten an answer too. It’s no advanced mathematics, you know. Just assertion and reason.”

  I cocked a tired eyebrow at him which he thankfully took as a cue to continue ‘I said before that the constant factor is constant, hence it would not change. Thus the other variables may so arrange themselves as to make the equation stable. In Nataraj Bhakti’s case the one positive factor, his appreciation for his wife as a hard working person was so great that it completely overshadowed the effect of the other two variables that could have destabilized the equation. Hence…’

  ‘The marriage worked only because the clerk’s wife could work hard and take good care of her husband’s needs.’ I completed the sentence as if in a trance.

  ‘Exactly’ he said smiling again.

  ‘I wonder if she ever knew, while alive, that her laboring for her husband day and night was the only reason that kept her marriage going.’

  ‘Oh she knew that’ Bhrigu replied ‘Women have a sixth sense when it comes to such matters.’

  A pall of gloom descended over me. ‘Poor woman.’ I said in a small voice.

  ‘That law, as I said before, is definitely changing as more and more women join the workforce and become independent.’ he said trying to cheer me up ‘The obstinate law can only change when women subvert their part of the equation by marching on with progress. There is no other way, I fear.’

  ‘Hmmm’

  ‘Come now, cheer up’ he said ‘We have a real shot at seeing a real ghost. If that’s not a cheerful enough prospect, I don’t know what is.’

  A dull smile slowly but surely exorcised the melancholy that had taken the possession of my natural, sunny self and even before I could help myself, I was smiling broadly at my dear friend.

  CHAPTER 4

  A Journey

  For the next week, we had to forget all about the clerk and his strange case. An M.L.A from our locality had been hounding Bhrigu to take up the case of his nephew and my friend had been trying his best to avoid running into him at the most ungodly hours. He sent his young, ambitious secretary to persecute and harass him into accepting the case. He would find him standing outside his door, early in the morning, when Ponalla emerged to collect his milk packet. He would smile like a leper and slink into his living room without the slightest invitation and make himself as comfortable on my favorite oak chair as if he was the master of the house. He would call on my friend at all odd hours and never took it to heart when he was mercilessly shown to the door at his every attempt. I knew he had a very bright future in politics ahead of him as he had perfected the art of a chaploos. The man would not succumb to his constant failures and persisted in his attempts to woo my friend. One day I paid him a visit and found him sitting on the couch, his legs folded beneath him and his head resting on his palms. He clearly looked a hapless, miserable soul.

  ‘What happened?’ I asked ‘You look green.’

  ‘That man will not leave me alone. I think I have to file a restraining order but the problem is that the police inspectors won’t entertain a complaint against the right hand man of the M.L.A Satish Tushar. I know what they’ll say- “Mr. Mahesh, he only wants you to listen to what he has to say. Why are you so obstinate? After all, you are the best man for the job!”

  ‘But what is the case he wants you to take?’

  He exhaled a defeated air and said with a wry smile ‘His nephew has been accused of misappropriating the funds of a prestigious finance firm. He wants me to clear his name. He says that he would pay me handsomely for it.’

  ‘So what’s the issue?’

  ‘The issue is that I don’t like the look of that man.’

  ‘Which man? The secretary?’

  ‘No. The M.L.A.’ he replied with a sigh ‘He is the smuggest man that I ever had the pleasure to meet. I met him once at a party…’

  ‘Wait a minute’ I cried ‘You? At a party?!’

  ‘Yes.’ he returned ‘You know how I hate attending any kind of social gathering but sometimes I have to concede; especially when you have been tipped off that Kala Nag was going to attend it too. I just couldn’t resist the chance of meeting him in person.’

  ‘Oh!’ I said. ‘That explains it. As far as Kala Nag is concerned, you can go to any extremes; be it the summits of Mount Everest or the depths of the sea.’

  ‘If only he had stuck to his schedule and not changed it at the very last moment. I went seeking his acquaintance and made that of the rat of an M.L.A instead.’

  Typical. Kala Naga or Kapil Shahi was the kingpin of The Shadyworld, a strongly connected network that operated by employing highly qualified and talented people from various fields who had got fired from their previous, respectable positions because of their greed and an aptitude for chicanery. They were those who had lost their reputations, lives and careers all in an instant and had no other option but to recruit themselves with the Shadyworld in a one last desperate shot to survive. Kala Nag feasted and thrived by exploiting the talents of such fallen soldie
rs. Everyone knew that the worst thing that could ever happen to a person, besides what he allowed his greed to do to him, was allowing his desperation to lead him to Kapil Shahi, to the Shadyworld. Although technically being a huge, business organization, it was constructed on vastly different set of rules; rules that revolved sharply around the interests of Kapil Shahi. The working of this organization was so sophisticated that no one knew how it had managed to flourish without leaving the faintest of trail behind for the law enforcing authorities to follow; all they could do was scratch their heads, spend sleepless nights trying to mentally find a hole in the seemingly perfect cover by letting their mind run through every article, however small and insignificant, that some enterprising journalist had managed to obtain, in an effort to sharpen the blurry image that they produced, only to give it up with a cry of frustration.

  You see, Kala Nag was the alter ego of Bhrigu; a mind lord who understood human nature at the back of his hand. He so skillfully tweaked the mental make up of his recruits that they would unconsciously do whatever was asked of them. It is easy to manipulate a youth who is still in the throes of development, with a mind which is still in the process of molding but Kapil Shahi was a true magician in the way that he could play with the mind of the most willful of men. He played them like a maestro plays his instrument, elegantly and expertly, like a true artist. The irony of it all was that the instruments danced to the very tune that they produced. This was the one reason why once a man crossed the boundary of a solid world to enter the nebulous one of The Shadyworld, he was not just leaving a blotched life behind but himself too, a predicament worse than death.

  Kapil Shahi’s world was so difficult to uncover because he had hidden his offices in plain sight; he had blurred the boundaries of wrong and right, good and bad. This was what he had once told to a baffled Press and had dared anyone to point a finger at him with concrete evidence to support their claim. It had been more than fifteen years and he still walked among free men, head high in the clouds and feet light on the ground.