Bhrigu Mahesh, Phd Page 8

  ‘Right.’ I said ‘That’s very good. Not many villages get this chance.’

  ‘A golden chance.’ Nataraj Bhakti replied. I could see that a change had come over him from the moment he had stepped into Manjunath’s house. He no longer looked dull, tired or morose. A new note had crept into his voice and he had become a man who was at peace with himself. The creases of tension that had added to the folds of his wrinkles had also receded with the effect that he now looked his age and not an old man on the last journey of his life.

  We talked about the state of affair of the village and how it had now become a breeding ground for Pundits after the recent boost in temple tourism. Manjunath was not a jealous man of faith and he openly declared his disdain for such ‘Charlatans’. In his opinion ‘They are con artists and nothing more’ Nataraj Bhakti made no comment over his friend’s criticism and I could see that he was a man who, although not very religious himself, would rather follow the dictates of the men of faith and be done with it than go against their wishes and risk damnation.

  ‘I do as they say.’ he said ‘I am a simple man. Neither a reformer nor a revolutionary.’

  ‘That’s why you spent almost all of your hard earned money on Damyanti Bhabhi’s rites.’ Manjunath said heatedly.

  ‘That’s because Damyanti was a religious woman. She would not have liked otherwise.’

  Manjunath did not reply anything but kept looking at his friend with obvious annoyance.

  ‘We shall get going now.’ my friend announced, getting to his feet. ‘Thank you for your hospitality.’

  After the exchange of greetings and our host coming to his gate to see us off, we set off for Bhakti Niwas once again.

  CHAPTER 13

  A Promise

  When we returned back, it was already dark. The gate of Chagrin (As Nataraj Bhakti loved to call it) was wide open and we could perceive a very dim light glowing feebly at a distance. The ground was in shadows and had our host forgotten to bring the big torch along, we would have been at the mercy of the growing darkness. The thing to be noted was that although it was little after seven, the road was completely deserted and not a soul stirred as far as the eyes could see. It could have well been past midnight with no one the wiser.

  ‘The villagers retire to their homes quite early.’ Nataraj Bhakti said, flashing his torch to illuminate a portion of the ground just beyond the gate. ‘When I was in the city, I used to go to bed at 10’o clock but nowadays I sometimes retire as early as 8.30.’

  A dog whined pitiably somewhere around me and I jumped a small feet into the air. Bhakti flashed his torch in my direction and I looked straight into the shining eyes of a street mongrel, moving about a nearby tree as if lost or in a day dream.

  ‘He is calling for his friends.’ our host explained. ‘In a few minutes they will foregather under this tree for a noisy conference. The pests.’

  Afraid of my own shadow, I entered the compound, guided by the light of the torch in the hand of our savior.

  ‘How are you holding, Sutte?’ Bhrigu asked with a chuckle. He was right at my elbow and his question was not to be confused with any genuine concern for my well-being.

  ‘I am just fine. Thank you.’ I replied stiffly.

  ‘Won’t you close the gate?’ I inquired, looking at the old metal giant with its mouth open as if to let an army in.

  ‘Who will close it at this time of the hour?’ he said throwing a malicious glance at the thing again. ‘It is only rarely that we bother with it. Mostly it is open.’

  ‘You have no security concerns?’ I asked, concerned.

  ‘Security?’ Bhakti laughed a cynical laugh. ‘From whom? The people that I have anything to fear from live with me.’

  My friend was trailing behind Nataraj Bhakti. I wanted to observe his reaction to our host’s sentiment, but apart from his shuffling feet, I could make out nothing.

  If the house had looked awe-inspiring during the day, it transformed into a terrifying spectacle under the curtain of dark. I felt like a frightened child lost in a strange world, groping through the dark and trying to reach safe ground. I let my imagination soar as we walked through the dark pathway, thinking that I was soon going to have a cup of tea with the Count Dracula who had left his own castle and had retired here.

  When the red roof of the house came into our view, the ghastly picture that I had conjured up vaporized to be replaced by something solid and very much of the real world. It was not the glamorous land of the damned but the vestiges of a glorious house, damned by the most powerful lord of saints and evil alike; time.

  I noticed that had it not been for a string of deeyas sitting on the ledge of the window to our room, the house would have been shrouded in darkness. Those four, lonely deeyas sat glumly as foot soldiers whose army had deserted them. To show their disappointment, they were trying their best to emit the least light possible and as I was watching them, one went kaput; leaving the other three to soon follow in the footsteps of their leader. The feeble light from the Deeyas was hardly illuminating the ledge, let alone the house. I think they were put there more for a psychological relief than any real effort to mitigate the dark. The fact that there was light somewhere on the premises must be a source of comfort for the poor residents of the house.

  When we stepped on the porch, Nataraj Bhakti shouted at the top of his lungs. ‘Premkala! Come on out and bring the lantern along!’

  The door creaked open after a full ten minutes. It framed a flustered looking Premkala holding a brand new lantern in her right hand.

  ‘What took you so long?’ Nataraj Bhakti shouted at her.

  ‘I was in the kitchen making food for your consumption.’ she replied with equal heat.

  ‘You are not washing the glass globe properly. See how black it has become.’ said the old man who had changed into his querulous self which was reserved only for his relatives. ‘It has only been two weeks that I bought it. When will you learn to take care of things?’

  ‘How do you expect me to keep cleaning it every five minutes? If there is smoke the glass will become black, however hard you clean it.’

  ‘Excuses.’ Nataraj Bhakti mumbled under his breath and walked in. We followed him inside.

  Premkala took a stool, dragged it to the centre of the courtyard and almost dropped the lantern on it. Her anger was visible in her every movement. ‘Gently!’ cried Bhakti, but, needless to say, it fell on deaf ears.

  The bright light from the lantern helped dispel the darkness from the courtyard at least.

  ‘I am very sorry, sir’ said Bhakti apologetically ‘That you have to put up with so much discomfort. I should never have called you.’

  ‘Yes, you are right…’ I began. The bleak condition of electricity, the unbearable heat and the less than comfortable accommodations were taking a toll on me. I no longer cared for the mystery and my only concern now was to find a place where I could feel like a human being once again. ‘I am…’ My friend cut me short.

  ‘We will manage Bhaktiji.’ he said soothingly ‘None of it is your fault. No need to apologize.’

  ‘Th…thank you sir.’ our host said with gratitude. ‘You are very kind.’

  ‘Will the electricity not come at all?’ I asked, putting a handkerchief to my perspiring brow.

  ‘It will, sir, it will. After 12 it comes and before 5 it goes.’

  ‘Oh’ was all I could reply.

  Three chairs were brought to the courtyard and arranged around the lantern. Savita came in bearing four glasses of water. She passed it around and as she came close to me, I could see that despite the heat and the sweat, the woman was looking very beautiful. In the yellow, sultry light from the lantern, she did not look quite as gloomy as the day before. The dark black, home made kohl that she had applied to her eyes was accentuating their beauty. When she beckoned me to take the glass of water, I realized that I wa
s gaping at her. I quickly took out my handkerchief but this time to wipe the beads of embarrassment glistening on my forehead. She smiled and went back into the kitchen, located somewhere in the backyard of the house. I smiled too but as my eyes fell on my friend, I could see that he was smiling too. Although, his was quite the impish smile, the very one I hate to the core.

  ‘Bhaktiji’ said Bhrigu, after he had taken a sip of water and recorded my lapse somewhere in his brain, to make fun of sometime later. ‘Is today a night you would expect something to happen?’

  Bhakti gulped. ‘It…it may or it may not. The preternatural phenomenon is quite erratic.’

  ‘I want you to show me to your room and everywhere else that you felt the presence of something otherworldly.’ said my friend. ‘And then if anything happens during the night, please notify us at once. Alright?’

  Bhakti gulped again to show his approval.

  ‘So shall we begin with your room?’

  ‘Of…of course, sir…’ he replied in a small voice. ‘Of course.’

  CHAPTER 14

  A Late Night

  Vigil

  Nataraj Bhakti’s room, we discovered, was not at all repaired, as one repairs things that have become worn and old and not that which is brand new and yet to suffer the wear and tear of age. He had built his accommodation away from the main building, at a corner of the backyard.

  ‘Your room is quite new.’ I remarked.

  ‘No sir.’ he replied quickly ‘It’s not new at all. I had it made many years ago when I was living in the city. Whenever I used to come here for a day or two, I stayed here. I only renovated it when we came to live here permanently. It’s not new at all.’

  ‘Right.’ I said, observing how embarrassed he had become at such a simple question.

  Bhrigu was surveying the area with his sharp eyes, taking in even the minutest of details.

  ‘It’s a wonder how you have successfully built your home away from your home.’ he said.

  ‘Y…yes’ replied Nataraj Bhakti, confused. He was probably struggling to come to terms with the awkward question that suggested more than it asked.

  Surreptitiously, he went inside his room and lightly switched on the light.

  ‘Wow!’ I remarked again. ‘You have light in your room when the whole house is in the dark.’

  ‘Y…yes.’ he replied, embarrassed again. ‘That’s the inverter. I let it charge with whatever electricity it gets during the day. It works for a couple of hours in the night. It’s a small respite but even that can go a long way if you are living in such ruins.’

  ‘I see.’ I said.

  Although it was our host’s own room, I could sense that a certain stiffness had settled in his body. It was as if he wasn’t comfortable in his own skin. His every muscle was taut with tension as he moved about the room like a lamb caught in the lion’s den with no way out and forced to wait for his return.

  ‘You don’t look very good.’ I said.

  ‘I…I am all right.’ he said and looked at my friend who was observing the room now. I saw him taking in the forlorn bed kept at the middle of it, a writing table holding a small tower of files; few ink pens and a blotting paper, two wooden chairs and one big trunk pushed against the wall at the back. It was spotless clean and I could smell the fresh coat of paint on the walls. What a relief it offered to the ruins, sorry, rooms of the ancient house! I felt like I had come back to civilization after aimlessly wandering in the Saharan desert.

  ‘I have suffered in this room so much for the past couple of months,’ our host was saying, ‘that had I a better accommodation, I would have moved there.’

  ‘Bhaktiji’ said Bhrigu. ‘I understand your plight. I hate to be the one to stroke raw bruises but I want you to go back in time and tell me everything that happened with you and also the exact place where it happened. Please think clearly. I can only help you if your memory can be relied upon.’

  ‘That’s not a problem, sir.’ Bhakti said quickly. ‘I have revisited the events so many times in my mind that I can not be wrong regarding the details. But…but…’

  ‘But what?’ I asked.

  ‘But I am afraid today’s the day.’

  ‘What day?’

  He gulped painfully. The terror in his face was so palpable that I could reach my hand and touch it. His lips were quivering and his eyes had bulged slightly with shock. His face had become pale and drained of all color.

  ‘I…I was mentally doing the math.’ he said after conquering some of his nerves. ‘The preternatural phenomenon is very likely to happen today as it is almost a week from the last manifestation. It…it can happen anytime now.’

  ‘Is that so?’ I asked, as some of his nerves seemed to infect me too.

  ‘Yes. Sir…’ he said addressing my friend. ‘I…I want you to sleep here in my room, please. I beg of you. One more night of it and I will die. Please…please…’

  ‘You have to show a little courage, Bhakti ji.’ replied my friend. ‘The haunting or whatever it is, is not out to hurt you physically, because if that had been the case, you would have already suffered at its hand. I will be in my room and if you get the slightest of hint of something happening, run to us immediately.’

  ‘Y…yes sir.’ he replied in a small, frightened voice.

  ‘Now, please show us what happened and where in as sharp a detail as if it occurred yesterday.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ said he and cleared his throat. ‘I experienced the first phase of the haunting when I had gone to the lavatory at night some four months ago. I have already told you about it. Sir, shall I show you the lavatory?’

  ‘No, thank you.’ I said at once.

  ‘Yes, please.’ my friend replied.

  He got out of the room and we fell in line with him. I discovered that like the house, the backyard too, was big enough to get lost. We had silently followed Nataraj Bhakti for about fifteen minutes when he told us that we were just halfway there. We passed the kitchen which was lit by a lamp and in its light I could see two figures huddled together. One was Premkala and the other of course must be Savita. There was not light enough to see what they were actually doing and I made no effort to make it make my business to know.

  ‘They must be packing the left over for a quick snack during the night.’ Nataraj Bhakti said almost to himself. ‘God knows how much of my ration goes into satiating those gluttons.’

  ‘Is that Savita?’ I asked. I had seen Premkala clearly but I was not quite so sure about the other figure.

  ‘Savita? No.’ he said ‘The other one is Chiranjeev, her husband.’

  ‘Oh.’ I said.

  We kept on walking, guided by the light of the torch and suddenly Nataraj Bhakti came to a halt. ‘That…’ he said pointing his finger in the direction of the torch light. ‘That is the lavatory’

  The light had illuminated the door to the lavatory. The poor thing, following in the tradition of the doors of Bhakti Niwas, was lying dead on its hinges and was somehow kept together by a kunda. Bhrigu went close to it and gently lifted the hook off its resting place. As the door opened with a groan, he peered inside, looked about for a moment and then came back to us.

  ‘Outside the property’ he said ‘Just beyond your backyard…what is it?’

  ‘Fields, sir, what else?’ Bhakti replied ‘It belongs to a farmer Bhilwa. He grows mostly maize in his fields.’

  ‘Right.’

  Bhrigu was now in charge of us. He walked towards the boundary wall that separated the backyard from the fields beyond and examined everything closely. I don’t know what exactly he was looking for but I could see him frisking the walls with the light from the torch and also tracing the distance of the boundary wall to the lavatory and back, with the help of the torch light.

  ‘Okay’ he said after fifteen minutes. ‘We are done here’

  We then f
ollowed the same route and were back at our host’s room. On our way, I could see that the kitchen was now closed with the couple retiring for the night to their room. At that time, I remembered that I was yet to meet Chiranjeev.

  When we were comfortably seated on the chairs inside Nataraj Bhakti’s room, he said ‘Sir, shall I show you where the second attack took place?’

  ‘It must have taken place in the kitchen.’ replied my friend.

  ‘H…how do you know?

  ‘Pots and pans, remember?’

  ‘Oh yes.’ he replied, sheepishly.

  ‘No. I don’t want to see the kitchen.’ Bhrigu replied ‘I think I won’t find anything there to help me. But tell me please, where is the dressing room where the third phase of the haunting took place? Where is the infamous comb?’

  ‘Oh that?’ said Nataraj Bhakti ‘That dressing table is kept in my wife’s room, where else?’

  ‘The one we saw earlier in the day?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘We will have a look at it tomorrow, Bhaktiji.’ my friend said ‘Now we will take your leave. But the first thing you do when you hear anything is give a missed call on my phone, alright?’

  Bhakti gulped painfully again. ‘Alright, sir.’

  CHAPTER 15

  A Loose Encounter

  Savita was looking particularly beautiful today. She was wearing a deep blue sari with a black border that brought out the color of her eyes. Her face looked lovely and there was a light pink flush to her cheeks that deepened significantly as she looked at me. The black of her eyes was shining like a bright planet, suspended in the galaxy of white and the gentle, elegant dash of kajal was stroking my passion and churning the waves of emotions that I now felt staring at it. She walked towards me with a gentle sway to her hips and I swallowed uncomfortably as my heart skipped a beat. She would give me a coy smile every now and then; nervously raising her eyes to meet mine, and I could do nothing to camouflage my expression that shamelessly revealed a mixture of pain and pleasure. She was now very close to me and I could smell her sweet perfume on me; the color of her kajal that now matched evenly with my eyes and the red of her lips that somehow became the color of my blood running through my veins…I took her soft hand in mine and played with her bangles. ‘Savita’ I said, saying every syllable of the beautiful name with a reverence reserved for gods. ‘Savita, will you be mine forever?’