CHAPTER 47
A Whisper
and Poof!

‘I…I dun believe it…but if nut you who else? O Pundit ji, you are a great a mun and I am a sure now that you wud solve my a trobil too!’

‘Rest assured.’ said the Pundit with a patronizing smile. ‘I am the best at what I do. You know why people listen to me so? Because I understand them, especially the women. I understand your wife too and hence soon she would do exactly what I want her to do. Get her freedom from you. All you have to do is follow my advice.’

‘I vill, Pundit ji…I vill bu’…bu’…’

‘Yes? What is it? Tell me everything. Don’t be shy.’

‘This ‘oman, Neelu. Are ya’sure Pundit ji that she a did nut kill her on her a own?’

‘No…no.’ replied Parichay Mishra with a smile. ‘She was a very weak woman. She could not have done it had I not guided her.’

‘But the other ‘oman is dead now, zin’t she Pundit ji?’

‘Well, that was unfortunate because she was a great woman but I am sorry to say that it was quite unavoidable. I taught Neelu to fight for her husband and fight she did. We all should fight for our rights, no matter what the result.’

‘Yus, sahib, yur so a right. I vill also figh’ for me right as you a told me to.’

‘Good. Now run along and put the process into motion already.’

‘Yus, Pundit ji. Thunk you, Pundit ji.’

As the laborer stood up, so did I and soon we were outside the temple. We walked briskly till we had reached the tree under which we had changed into our current roles and the laborer quickly removed his ugly moustache, straightened his hair and pyjamas and lo and behold! My friend was standing before me!

‘I have the proof I need to get the police onto him.’ he said, taking his cell phone out of his pocket. ‘I recorded his confession on my phone’s recorder. There’s no way he can deny that this voice is his.’

‘Is it enough for his arrest?’ I asked, shaking the dust out of my hair and removing the glasses that had made me almost blind. My knees were aching for squatting on the ground for long and I gently messaged them so that the blood circulation there was restored.

‘Yes. In this century of technology, it is not easy to lie. There is a device called “Voicegraph” All we have to do now is take a sample of his voice and match it with what we have in the phone. If it’s his, it will be a perfect match.’

‘Just like matching a fingerprint.’

‘Absolutely.’

‘So, why the delay? Call the inspector already. The sooner we put a stop to his eccentricities, the better.’

‘It’s not so easy, Sutte. We can never get the arrest warrant on this recording alone. We will have to prove that it belongs to the suspect. First, I will have to send the sample to the city lab for processing.’

‘But with what they will match it with?’

‘With a live sample of his own voice that they take on the spot.’ he replied looking grim. ‘That’s how it runs. First they take the recorded sample, process it for quality control; removing any disturbances, refining the voice and that sort of thing. Then they will issue a blank report which the Krishna Dwar police will have to fill out and post them back. They will again go through the filled report and then issue the date when their inspectors would be coming to take the live sample of the voice for a match.’

‘Such a long red tape.’ I said, disheartened. ‘That would take at least…’

‘Two weeks.’ he said. ‘After I recommend it as urgent, it would still take two weeks. Before that, I am afraid our hands are tied. If we arrest him on less than fool proof evidence, he will get out easily and raise his defenses. That way it would become very difficult, indeed. We will have to surprise him with solid proof and that way he will have no choice but to surrender.’

‘Two weeks!’ I cried. ‘That is such a long time!’

‘Yes, but I am afraid we have no other way.’ he replied, walking slowly on our way to Bhakti Niwas. ‘In a way, it’s good. Neelu would have gained some of her faculties by then and would be in a better position to give a correct account of everything.’

‘So what are we going to do for two weeks? Shall we return to the city?’

‘No. We will stay here and try to find out something that has kept troubling me all this while.’

‘And which is?’

‘We now know how Pundit Parichay Mishra manipulates his victims but the why is still in shadows. To completely understand the motivation behind his manipulation, we will have to dig deeper. The picture will only clear once we find that out. I will try to talk to his coterie and other close companions; try to get some hints about what this man is up to.’

‘And what should I do?’

‘What you do the best.’

‘What?’

‘Observe me, my scribe!’ said my friend with an impish smile.

Again I was holed up in Bhakti Niwas with very little to entertain me. I admire the immense wealth of beauty in villages and that feeling of connection to your roots is always gratifying but you have got to admit that without the occasional dose of entertainment on the good old T.V set, little luxuries like a good coffee made on my wonderful machine, leisurely traveling in my comfortable car and frequent trips to the city library where I had the honor of a permanent membership, you could start to feel slightly under the weather. I love to travel with my dear friend and the quaint wonders of village life never fail to delight me but you have got to again admit that sometimes this robust lifestyle can prove a little too much for a delicate city dweller who is accustomed to all the comforts of modern world. If my friend did not carry such an exciting world within him which I had only just begun to explore, I confess I would not have battled the difficult conditions with the obstinacy of a bull.

The two weeks went by seeing little action from me but my friend was full of activity as he kept making quick rounds to the temple dressed like a non-descript laborer. Twice, I accompanied him on his sojourns but he just would not take the risk of admitting me anywhere near the temple and I was under strict orders to remain under the branches of the tree where the police jeep had been parked before. As I could not see what he was doing and also that it had become uncomfortable just standing on that lonely spot with only a man or two trickling down the road to watch as the temples had been closed off for restoration, I just gave up and preferred to stay in my room. Sometimes, Jeetu would come up to me and I would listen with joy as he talked about his mother and her little adorable habits and I would always end up giving something or the other to the motherless boy. I did not even think twice in untying my watch and handing it down to him. I knew he could easily afford it but I just wanted to gift him something and that watch was the only thing left on me. He was a major source of comfort to me during the long days and I would endeavor to keep him entertained lest I lost this valuable company too by telling him of my simple day-to-day adventures in the city. He would enjoy my stories immensely and soon I found him confessing to me that he would love to live in the city too and that he was quite done with the village life. I laughed but also assured him that he could always count on me for any guidance or help in the matter and he just hugged me with sheer joy.

Nataraj Bhakti spent most his time either in his room or in the porch outside where he would become busy with the new flowerbed and the array of fresh pots sporting young, tender leaves. He and Jeetu would water them tediously and I would often find them busy, squatting bare feet in the flowerbed with their Khuppi making way for yet another plant. Chiranjeev mostly loafed in the village bazaar and once or twice that his head poked in, I would just turn my back so that he would not be encouraged to enter the room in any way. I saw his wife sometimes when she would bring us the food and stand there as if a thousand questions were going through her mind which, for some reason, she would not ask. After the death of Savita, I had noticed that a change was coming over her in small degrees. She wasn’t the noisy, annoying woman whose only passion in life was to pry into the homes of her neighbors and steal some colorful moments from their lives to make her own exciting. Yes, she still retained some of that bloodhound look and the accompanying energy but there was now this dullness about her face, which was suggestive of a certain defeat that she had now accepted. Was it that she was slowly coming to terms with her current life? Or was there any other reason, I could not tell. But of one thing I was certain. She had changed from the woman I had first met. I do not know whether such a person was capable of introspection but I knew that she had, in some way that she resented, accidentally looked into her own life, instead of that of the others, and what she saw had scared her to hopelessness and defeat.

On the thirteenth day when I was taking a walk on the muddy, half-baked road under the extensive inter-connected Gold Mohur trees outside the old but imperious gates of the Bhakti Niwas, I saw Bhrigu almost running towards me. He looked greatly agitated and I could clearly tell that something was amiss.

‘What…what happened?’ I asked, as he stood near me, almost panting. ‘You look terrible!’

‘I got a call from the operator at the city’s forensic lab. They said that they would send a technician tomorrow.’

‘That’s good news. What’s the problem then?’

‘I would have to ask them to cancel everything.’

‘Cancel?’ I asked, surprised. ‘Why?’

‘Because they would not get what they are coming for.’ he said as a shadow crept under his eyes. ‘Pundit Parichay Mishra has disappeared!’