CHAPTER 17
A Man-Child
Continued

I could see my friend’s eyes go wide with amazement when he beheld Chiranjeev and myself walking into room, almost arm in arm, like old pals. He looked at me quizzically and then as I was beginning to enjoy his bafflement, the impossible man dissolved into one his impish smile that is one of the most hated things for me in the world.

‘Namaste Sir.’ said Chiranjeev as he roughly dumped the plate full of savories on the small table. The latter groaned under its weight and I was afraid one of its legs would give in but the old thing, with the remainder of its dying strength and dignity, somehow held the plate aloft.

‘Namaste’ he replied. ‘You are Chiranjeev?’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Chiranjeev here wants to know if we have seen any film stars in our city.’ I said, sitting comfortably on the bed. ‘Isn’t it, my friend?’

This time the little man giggled like a girl. Whenever I looked at him, he reminded me of a clown in a circus that I had happened to visit when I was but a child. The clown was just the shape and size of this man here and he too had the habit of giggling like a girl at the slightest provocation. The small, unintelligent eyes and the big, shapeless nose almost completed the picture of likeness. The only difference was their mouth. The clown from my childhood had a good natured mouth that was always drawn into an exaggerated smile but Chiranjeev’s held a shadow of a sneer lurking there somewhere and this possibility alone was enough for me to be wary of him. He had exactly the same face cut as his brother and like a hologram he sometimes reflected Bhakti’s genial look but it was just a fleeting reminder of the good part of his genes and disappeared as quickly as it came.

‘Is that so?’ asked my friend with good humor.

‘Yes sir’ he replied, timidly. ‘I have read about them in the magazines. They say that all of them live in Bombay.’

‘Mumbai’ I corrected him. ‘But we have not come from Mumbai, don’t you know?’

‘No?’ he asked, incredulous.

‘No.’ I replied firmly. ‘We have come from the city where your brother used to work.’

‘Oh’ he said with a modicum of disgust. I could now see clearly what I had not liked about his mouth. The sneer that was in hiding had now revealed itself and I could have sworn that his lips twisted ever so slightly but altered his look so significantly that he now looked like the rogue twin of the clown from my childhood.

He looked a lot surly now and not in any way in a mood for conversation.

‘Are you alright?’ I asked again. ‘You knew that we were friends of your brother. Then why did you assume that we had come from Mumbai?’

He didn’t reply but kept staring at the plate of food with the disgruntled expression of a child who had been denied his right to a toy. The only difference was that he did not foster any of the innocence of a child that always validates his tantrums. As I looked at the strange man, standing there with his face down, trying to emulate an unsatisfied child and making himself unbearable by the second, I knew that however hard I tried, I could never like him.

‘I knew you lived in Patna.’ he replied dully. ‘But that does not mean you cannot travel to other cities. Or are you as big a miser as Raj Bhaiya?’

I swear to God I could have slapped the mean, thick headed man then and there had I not glanced at Bhrigu and observed that he was looking at Chiranjeev and smiling broadly.

‘Chiranjeev ji’ he said coolly. ‘It’s clear that you love the movies. But tell me, what other hobbies do you have?’

I did not quite understand how this question was relevant to his investigation into the character of this vile man but still, I could never question the methods of my friend. He knew best, is all I can say.

‘Oh, I have many hobbies.’ Chiranjeev replied. ‘But why are you so interested in my hobbies?’

‘You look like an interesting man.’ replied my friend.

‘That I am.’ he said proudly and drew himself to his full height. It did not do much in making up for the couple of inches he could surely have used and only helped in exaggerating his shortness.

‘I play cricket.’ said Chiranjeev. Bhrigu had stoked his vanity and he now sat back comfortably to see it taking effect. ‘I am always the opening batsman for my team.’

‘Your village has a cricket team?’ I asked, surprised.

‘Yes. Beyond the Palua pond, there is an open ground. It was being used for the construction of a kiln but the work stopped in between for reasons unknown. We now use it as our own cricket ground. You should come and see me playing. I am an ace.’

‘As I am sure you are.’ said Bhrigu, with a sickly sweet smile.

‘And…and I can also act.’ The man went on happily. ‘I have a great range. I can be a villain or a hero. I can also play the comedian or a woman too. When there is Ramlila in the village, every Dussehera, I simultaneously play many parts. Last year I was both Ravan and Mata Sita. I gave such a stellar performance that the crowd clapped their hands till they were sore.’

‘And have you ever played the role of a ghost?’ Bhrigu asked, dropping the question casually. I could see where he was going with this question and marveled at the skilful way my friend was trying to trap the unsuspecting man.

‘G…ghost?’ he stammered, a little shaken up. ‘Why would I want to play the role of a ghost?’

‘Because you are an actor.’ replied Bhrigu. ‘Actors should be willing to do any kind of role. Be it that of a hero, a villain or…a ghost.’

‘No sir.’ he replied, a trifle hurt. ‘I will never play a ghost.’

‘But why?’

‘Because…because all ghosts do in the movies is lurk in the shadows and frighten people with unexpected sounds. They don’t have a physical…a physical…’

‘Manifestation?’ I offered.

‘What’s that sir?’ he asked, confused.

‘Form.’ said my friend with a smile.

‘Yes, sir.’ he replied. ‘That’s it. Form. They don’t have a physical form.’

‘And you fear that if you don’t have a physical form, you won’t have any screen space?’

‘Yes sir.’ he replied, returning the smile. ‘And hence no one will recognize me if I say that I was in that play or that movie.’

‘Hmm’ Bhrigu said. ‘Your point, sir, is valid.’

‘Besides sir.’ Chiranjeev went on happily. ‘My range would see to it that I get the prime roles. Ghosts can be played by other people with less talent.’

‘True, true.’

‘I am also a very good Kabaddi player. Sometimes we play Kabaddi instead of Cricket. I am never caught as I run too fast and hence I lead my team to victory. My son, Pallav, who also plays Kabaddi with me, complains that I steal all the limelight.’ And here he laughed loudly. ‘And I tell him to stop complaining as what he should be doing is playing well and not complaining all the time.’

‘You are a man of many talents, sir.’ said Bhrigu, looking most thoroughly interested in the man’s prattle. ‘Tell me, what do you do for a living?’

At this question, his face drooped like a sunflower’s when the sun sets. His cheerfulness was replaced by the dullness with which he had greeted us after knowing that we had not met with any film stars after all. ‘Why do you ask that?’ he said sourly.

‘Because you are an interesting man and I want to know all about you.’ said my friend, good humouredly.

‘That I am.’ he said and took the bait again. ‘Well, sir, what to say? I have been most unfortunate as far as a livelihood is concerned.’

‘Why’s that? You look like a smart man.’

‘And I am smart,’ went on Chiranjeev, ‘but not half as lucky as Raj and Keshav Bhaiya.’

‘How’s that?’

‘Firstly, I was the youngest in three brothers and hence my parents squandered away all there money in the education of my two older brothers. When my turn came, there was none left and hence I had to go about doing odd jobs and struggling for a decent life.’

‘But Savita got a good education and she is the youngest.’ I said ‘Nataraj told us about her. How come she gets a costly education and you don’t?’

Chiranjeev’s face had now shrunk to the size of my fist owning to the anger that he now felt at this question. I don’t know why this innocent query had brought about such a transformation in him.

‘Because, sir, Savita was born under a very lucky star.’

‘How’s that?’ Bhrigu asked.

Chiranjeev exhaled a deep sigh and said. ‘You see this grand house, sir? It is now in the state of decay but when it was in its prime, it could have been a tourist attraction, so rich and magnanimous it was. There were tapestries hanging on the wall, huge chandeliers in every room, a rich Kashmiri carpet covering every part of the floor and the skins of leopards and tigers adorning our walls. This house was built by my great grandfather who was the manager of the estate of Dumrao for the king. He was so loved by the king for his undying devotion to the crown that he was constantly given riches beyond anyone’s imagination. He built this house in the likeness of a palace and endowed it with rich gifts.’ He took a breath. ‘When he died, the British had left this country in tatters. The Kings and queens had gone and so had their priceless treasures. My grandfather lived like a king in his own right when he was alive and he left his legacy to his sons i.e. my grandfathers. His two sons were not much concerned about their inheritance and sallied into the heart of the country to earn their living. I think they were quite mad in leaving the riches and working instead for a living. Anyways, that was that. They were very intelligent and got selected to serve as government officers. After they retired, they came here to spend the remainder of their lives. With them, they brought their two wives, Jullekha and Kherni. Sir, Julekha, the wife of the elder brother was my grandmother and Kherni was the grandmother of Savita.’

‘What?’ I asked, shocked. ‘Savita is your cousin?’

‘Yes, sir.’ he then looked at us surprised. ‘You say you are Raj Bhaiya’s friend and you don’t know this?’

Bhrigu looked at me with disappointment and said. ‘He had told us but we forgot. You see, he has always seen Savita as his own sister.’

‘We can debate on that.’ said Chiranjeev making a wry face. ‘Anyways, my grandfather loved his brother like anything but he hated his wife with all the force of his being.’

‘But why?’ I asked.

‘Well, sir, I don’t know exactly.’ said Chiranjeev, a little embarrassed. ‘But my mother used to say that Julekha was a mean, ill tempered woman.’

‘Oh! Carry on.’

He cleared his throat and began. ‘My grandfather hated her all his life and died doing so but as a last act of his hatred towards his wife, he made a will and left all his money, his legacy and everything to his younger brother and his family who he loved with all his heart. That moment onward a great divide separated the two families. Whereas my side of the family had to carry on with what they could earn with their own hands, the younger brother’s family had all the riches to see their seven generations through.’

‘Oh’ I said.

‘And what was the result of that mad man’s decision? My father, his own child was born poor and his brother’s son, i.e. my uncle, a very rich man.’

‘But where is your uncle?’ I asked.

‘Strange are the ways of fate, sir. My uncle, Jagdeesh, was born into wealth but he could not enjoy it for long. He was killed by diabetes which he took very casually. His wife, Bharati, Savita’s mother survived him for a couple of years but one day she left the world owning to a heart attack. She could never really recover from her husband’s death. Savita was then brought up by my parents. She doesn’t remember her own. But sir…’ said Chiranjeev ‘The wealth that they had inherited passed on to Savita. And hence, she could afford as costly an education as any.’

‘But why has she come back to live here if she has so much wealth?’

‘I…I seriously don’t know.’ he replied. ‘Raj Bhaiya was very close to her before she got married. After her husband died, she came to live with us…and Raj Bhaiya has been cold to her ever since. I sometimes try to ask some money from her but he would not let me. Says he would slay me if I dared even to think of such a thing. She is my own sister, cared for by my own parents so why can’t she help her brother in need? Instead, I go to him for help and that too, is not going well for me.’

‘I see.’ said Bhrigu. He was looking at the man with a strange glint in his eyes. I was sure that he was mentally weighing and assessing what Chiranjeev had just told us, noting a point here, canceling a point there to get it closer to the truth. ‘Nataraj doesn’t seem very well disposed towards you. Why’s that?’

‘It’s his nature, sir.’ he replied coolly. ‘He gets irritated very easily. Very short tempered, I might add. When we were kids, we never got along well. I was attached to our elder brother and sister but I never really cared for Raj Bhaiya. He kept aloof from us and spent much of his time with his friend, that loser, Manjunath.’

‘Then why do you keep bothering him for money?’ I asked and regretted the question at once as Bhrigu gave me the disappointed eye.

‘You think you are very smart, don’t you?’ The man cried as shrilly as he had done before. ‘Is that what you think, huh? That I am a bothersome pest?’

‘No…no…I was…’

‘Well, I will answer your stupid question.’ he cried. ‘I am never bothering him with anything. I only ask what I think is my right. He got a good education at the expense of mine. I am in this condition because of him. My older brother Kailash Bhaiya always sends me money. He never asks me for anything in return but…but Raj Bhaiya…He is such a miser! I cannot borrow one rupee from him without giving him a detailed account of where I spent it and why. It’s been only two years that he came to live with us and he is acting as if I have been asking money from him for his whole life. I and my family have always lived in this house. I have never seen the world outside of this village and…and I had made my peace with my fate but then Raj Bhaiya came along after his retirement and made me feel like the most wretched man on this planet. He treats curs better than us. He must have told you all sorts of bad things about me, don’t I know?’ The man was red in the face with the passion of his speech. ‘He thinks he is better than us and thus revels in the fact but simultaneously, he derides us too. He made a cabin for himself in the backyard and has stocked it with all kinds of amenities…but…but…the heartless man has never asked us once to visit him. My wife often cries to me about the way he treats us. My wife cooks for him, cleans for him but he has never thanked her once! I did not want to say anything against him as you are his friend but sir, let me tell you one thing, Nataraj Bhakti is a very selfish man.’

‘Please calm down, Chiranjeev ji.’ Bhrigu said. ‘I apologize for what my friend just said. We did not mean to hurt your feelings. I know you are a very good man who has been deeply wronged.’

These soothing words had the desired effect on the man and his anger subsided in the space of a moment. He took a deep breath and said to my friend. ‘Sir, you seem like a good man yourself. How did you happen to be friends with a man such as Raj Bhaiya? He can only keep friends as rotten as him. That Manjunath is his spitting image.’

‘Well, to tell you the truth.’ said Bhrigu in a soft whisper. ‘I don’t care much for Nataraj myself and I agree with you that he has many weaknesses. We came here because we had heard so much about Krishna Dwar. It has been in the papers, don’t you know? We just wanted to sight see it, that’s all.’

‘Oh sir, that’s not a problem at all.’ said Chiranjeev, smiling broadly. ‘If you have a host such as Raj Bhaiya by your side, you’ll never be able to enjoy the sights. I will personally give you a tour of the village. You will have a great time, I am sure.’

‘Oh thank you. That’s just what I wanted.’ said Bhrigu, smiling.

‘Will he come too?’ asked Chiranjeev with a snarl, looking at me with all the venom in his spleen.

‘I will stick to the shadows.’ I said in a small voice and could hear my friend choking inwardly with a half suppressed chuckle.