‘He is treating women like a scientist treats chimpanzees.’ I cried with horror. ‘Look how he writes about them!’
‘He is trying to know them inside out and thinks that these riddles were designed by ancients so that someone who is intelligent enough, will understand the purpose of their creation, which is to unlock our understanding of the fairer sex.’ said my friend looking ill. ‘But why? What will he stand to gain?’
‘Publicity, fame, what else?’ I said with indignation.
‘But what is fame without money? His discussions are free for all and there is no money to be made out of it then why…’
‘Because he is a lunatic who needs treatment.’ I said. ‘What rot has he written next?’
My friend scrolled the screen and then said. ‘His “profound conclusion” is never made. Savita does not take the hand of Manjunath. She only makes him, her friend. Shall I read what he has written?’
‘Spare me.’ I said with disgust.
‘I don’t want to read anymore too.’ he said. ‘Only listen to this line. He writes that “The woman has grown close to the fool but she accepts him as a friend. All the signs that the fool said she was displaying says clearly that she now considers him a good friend and nothing more. So, strong women, even under unfavorable circumstances remain strong. Thank god for this answer. My little faith in women is still standing, albeit on shaking legs. The answer to the riddle stands corrected though. It is now- ‘Does not apply.’ May be it would have been different if the woman in question was someone like Neelu or Lakshmi or even Chaaya for that matter.” So you see.’
‘Savita was a special woman.’ I said, proudly. ‘Even a madman agrees to that.’
‘Yes but’ said my friend. ‘Even though Savita did not come near Manjunath, she was moving towards another, Prem Malik. She was looking to undo her mistakes of the past by choosing a man with different qualities than her husband but that, in no way means that she wasn’t strong. The Pundit is observing women through his thick, binary lens. He is ignoring all the other possibilities that come in between and that only goes to prove how desperate he is to become an authority on women quickly. Well, he has got many people under his influence and if we do not stop him soon, several stable lives will be rocked to their foundations. Like Lakshmi’s.’
‘Lakshmi, Savita’s friend, right?’ I said. ‘She is the same woman he writes here?’
‘Yes. He is playing her insecurities to his benefit too.’
‘So that’s why she was behaving so strangely towards her husband. The anger, the remarkable change, this explains everything.’
‘And more. You remember we had overheard Bulla Ram Prakash, the village pradhan that domestic disputes had increased in the village as never before? That people had refused to listen to even him? It’s all the doing or rather, undoing of this one man people trust because he is a learned man of faith. Before he does any more damage, we will have to stop him.’
‘So what should we do?’ I asked. ‘I want to stop him as much as you do.’
‘Pundit Parichay Mishra is feeling powerful, playing with the minds of his victims. Its now time that we defeat him at his own game.’
‘So what do you plan we do?’
‘Very Simple.’ he said with a determined smile. ‘We are going to set him a vanity trap.’
That whole day, my friend was busy with himself. He sat brooding on the chair and nothing I said made the remotest impression on him. Sometimes, I thought he had just dozed off in his seat but then he would open his eyes and they would be as sharp as that of a man who was engrossed in some work he found very exciting. I tried to talk to him when he was in such a state but it went right past him! I knew then and there that he was in one of those moods of his where he was physically present with me but his mind was someplace else. I got myself busy surfing my social media account and noticed that many of my acquaintances had recently changed there profile pictures. They were all selfies and the people who had taken them looked beyond gratified now that they had uploaded a good one. Their bright, toothy smile told me that. I thought if taking selfies was such a source of happiness, I should try my hand at one two; who knew my mood would elevate that kept being spoilt by my friend. I took the camera of my smart phone in my hand and gave as broad a smile as my lips could allow and then clicked the button. Instantly, the picture was saved in my camera but I did not quite like it. Frankly, I was repulsed by it. My smile looked way too artificial than I had cared for. Undeterred, I positioned the camera again by holding it at a distance from me, which was the standard selfie taking protocol and I was about to hit it when my friend shouted-
‘What are you doing, Sutte? You look like you are suffering from tetanus.’
‘Thank you that you noticed.’ I said, acidly. ‘I thought you would not care even if I actually got tetanus.’
He laughed simply.
‘Premkala came into the room a half hour ago.’ I said, feeling a hand to my stomach. ‘She said that lunch was ready. Let’s go and eat or else it will get cold. She is not a terrific cook but one does have to eat, you know.’
‘You go.’ he said, getting into a cream-colored Kurta. ‘I am off to see Pundit Parichay Mishra.’
‘But…but…let’s eat first.’ I implored. ‘I want to come too.’
‘You can’t if you have to eat.’ he said, now getting into his pajamas. ‘I have no time to waste.’
‘Eating is not a waste of time.’ I said, irritated. ‘But if you are in such a hurry, I will come with you. I will take a packet of biscuits and eat in the way.’
He shrugged non-chalantly and after I had gotten into a respectable attire, we were on our way.
‘Let’s stand there under that tree.’ said my friend as we were half way through and happened to come upon a Gold Mohur tree from where we had to take a turn.
‘Why?’
‘I have to take care of a couple of things.’ he said and we reached the spot which he had indicated. He then got his hand into the right pocket of his Kurta and took out a black something.
‘What’s that?’ I asked. ‘Show me!’
He said nothing and applied the something over his upper lip and pushed it there for a couple of seconds. When he withdrew his hand, I saw that it was a thin, pencil like moustache. It looked very real and I could barely control my urge to tug at it and test its strength. Next, he took a crumpled cloth out of the yellow plastic bag he was carrying and made it into a simple but dirty turban over his head. He then took a few betel nuts out of his left pocket and pushed it into his mouth. He worked it mechanically until his lips and tongue were marked with red. Next, he took the dirt and mud lying about the ground and smeared it generously all over his cream Kurta until it looked as if it was made out of dust. He did the same with his pajamas and then stood staring at me with a mischievous smile on his face.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ I cried. ‘You look like a privileged laborer.’
‘Privileged laborer?’ he asked, surprised.
‘Yes.’ I said. ‘Do you thing just putting those superficial things would change your appearance? You look dirty and with a limp moustache but very much like yourself, I’m afraid.’
‘As I told you on our trip to Senduwar, I have one last thing to wear.’
‘Oh!’ I said, as I remembered. ‘Go on then and complete the picture.’
As I said this, his eyes dropped almost as if he was suffering from some kind of malaise. He got in them the dull, unintelligent look so different from his own. His shoulders drooped with his eyes and one of his hands grotesquely twisted in the other direction. His lips smacked the way a bum does when he has got something to chew and the noise that he made almost compelled me to kick him.
‘Sahib.’ the laborer said to me in a pained voice, between his pangs of chewing the betel nut. ‘How do I look?’
‘Oh my god!’ I said, shocked. ‘You…you look like you have been possessed by the soul of a laborer!’
‘The power of expressions.’ he said with a smile, exorcised of the laborer.
‘How do you do that?
‘You know what I was doing on that chair back at the room?’
‘What?’
‘I was going through an art movie ‘Shankar’ that I saw as a teenager. Shankar was the name of the protagonist and he was a tea-plantation laborer. I was just noticing his expressions. That’s all. I memorized them and then applied them on my face.’
Again the strange answer he had given to me before. He treated acting as if it was just the addition and subtraction of expressions. This impossible man never failed to amaze me.
‘So you will meet the Pundit in this disguise, huh?’
‘Why, yes.’ he replied. ‘My plan will never succeed if I don’t look like a sycophantic fool.’
‘Hmmm.’ I said. ‘But how would you explain my presence? Because do as you like I will be there when you “trap” him. I cannot skip the climax of the story that I will have to write now, can I?’
‘Climax.’ he said. ‘Interesting word. Don’t worry, Sutte. I will take you along. I have my reinforcements for you too.’ Before I could question further, he crumpled my hair and generously clapped some dust on top of it; took off my fine, rimless glasses and substituted it with a thick pair of rustic, myopic ones which he retrieved from his magical box type plastic and then instructed me to carelessly fold my trousers to my knees and to take off my shirt completely. When I had done as he had instructed, I looked like a vegetable monger; a healthy vegetable monger for that matter.
‘You should walk like you are dawdling.’ he advised. ‘And keep your pot belly prominent. Walk as if it is giving your feet a lot of trouble.’
‘I don’t have a pot belly!’ I cried.
‘Okay now.’ he said with a smile. ‘Your paunch, all right?’
‘I don’t…’ I started but stopped. Arguing with him was futile, especially when he was bursting with energy. ‘From where did you get these old spectacles? Everything looks thrice there size in them.’
‘Borrowed it from Nataraj Bhakti.’ he replied. ‘Before he corrected his eyes through a laser surgery, he used to wear these.’
‘When did you ask him?’
‘Never mind.’ he replied. ‘Just remember that you have to keep quite at all times, look bored and keep yawning at proper intervals. Also, dawdle and walk as if…’
‘Walk with some trouble.’ I said, quickly before he could remark on my healthy curvature. ‘I have got it. Don’t worry at all.’
‘Okay then.’ he said with a broad smile. ‘Let’s break some leg.’
‘A leg.’ I corrected.
‘What leg?’ he asked.
‘Never mind.’ I said with a deep sigh.