“Here, I must also warn you that even if a ghost is willing to pass on to you a Dvijya, then you must be very careful in using it, because the enunciation of it could be serving some ulterior motive of his that might not be perceptible to you at the beginning. A Dvijya can sometimes turn out to be pernicious for its user.” Thus she completed the little lecture, and saw Ankit convey his understanding through a nod.
“Alright then, I must go and join my replica now, my Dvijya allows us to be apart only for a little amount of time.” And without waiting on Ankit’s response, she flew away.
Once again, she had looked her finest when acting as his teacher, the solemnity of her words, the ever present smile on her lips, the sweetness of her voice; it made him wonder if there was a Dvijya that could make her fall in love with him. And if there was one, he would not mind spending the whole of his ethereal existence in searching for it.
*******
4
After a couple of weeks of living in the guest house, time had come for Raghuvir to search himself a domicile. And this Sunday morning with its cool and pleasant weather, was as fine an occasion as any to scour the city neighborhoods for an abode, and towards that end, presently on their way towards the office of a local property agent, were Raghuvir and Kamal, both seated up front in a wobbly Rosa as it screeched and groaned its way over the roads that led to their eventual destination.
The property agent was a relative of a distant relative of a distant relative of Kamal, and so his presence in this trip was required, and as every rose came with its thorns, as success brought along with it hubris, as wealth was accompanied by consternation for its safekeeping, so Kamal arrived with his car Rosa, leaving our poor professor no option but to bear another ride in the hoary contraption.
Once again, to distract himself from the dangers of the journey, the professor took to exploring Kamal’s YouTube channel, and of the many categories and types of videos present in there, he decided to go through the ones related to the student activities of the college in which he now taught. Debates, declamations, dramas, competitions of music, arts, and other knick-knackery came together to contribute a potpourri of clippings, and as he went through these, he noticed that one student featured highly there was a young girl named Kritika Chaudhary. From giving speeches on all sort of complex subjects to performing the classical Indian dance forms of Kuchipudi and Kathak in the college fests, she had marked her presence in many videos in there, and in fact on staining the faculties of his mind some, the professor also remembered her to be a part of the college debate team whose prowess he had witnessed earlier.
“Quite a bright young girl, this Kritika Chaudhary, how come I have never seen her around?” the professor asked, as he finished watching her speech regarding ‘the role of popular culture in shaping the public opinion’ delivered at last year’s Annual function.
“That one, she graduated last year professor,” Kamal answered with a bit of a mischievous smile, though the professor failed to notice it since they were already arriving at their destination and he was all too eager to get out of Rosa’s shaky confines.
The office of the property dealer they had come to meet was located in a very plain looking shop. The walls were not yet painted and carried the original grey color of the cement; the furniture was minimal in the form of a wooden table and a few chairs on each side, and on a shelf at a far wall, upon a bright red cloth, were some pictures of Hindu Gods and Goddesses with a couple of Agarbattis (Incense Sticks) lit up in front of them, presently suffusing the whole air inside the shop with a fragrance of sandalwood.
Upon ascending the few steps that were in front of the shop, at the threshold itself, Kamal and Raghuvir were met by the proprietor of the place, Ballu Dogra, a healthy looking middle aged man with a brawny physique and a sharp featured face, his most prominent characteristic was his heavy moustache, whose right edge he rolled between his index finger and thumb whenever he felt the need to emphasize his manliness.
“Hello Ji, hello, welcome,” Ballu greeted them in a blandishing buttery voice, as he stepped aside to let the two potential clients enter his shop.
“Uncle, I am Mehra Uncle’s nephew’s cousin Kamal, Mehra Uncle’s brother in law’s father must have called you this morning about me,” Kamal thus gave his introduction once they were inside the shop and were seated at the table. About how he managed to accurately state that lineage without losing track of some relation, well that was a question for the posterity to ponder upon.
Anyhow, at Kamal unveiling this close kinship with Mr. Dogra, the latter went in to a paroxysms of warm greetings, whereon he first came and shook Kamal’s and Raghuvir’s hand, before giving both of them affectionate hugs, after which he shouted for them an order of tea and Paneer Pakoras to a nearby Halwai, until at last he calmed down a little and went to take his seat on the other side of the table. After some causerie about the various trifles and trivialities pertaining to their common kin over that delightful tea and Pakoras, the course of the conversation finally turned to the little matter of finding Raghuvir a place to live, at which Mr. Dogra enthusiastically thumped his sinewy hand against the table and began announcing to his visitors, just what sort of a wonderful perfect place he had under his eyes for Mr. Dixit.
“Sound in its foundation, rich in its tradition, the furniture theres a swiss, nothing is a-miss, kindest of owners in the whole land, any trouble the neighbors will lend a hand, water and electricity full twenty four hours, oh one’s mood there is never dour, ain’t too cold, ain’t too hot, ain’t too airy, ain’t too clammy, a place where one feels no whammy, and what to say more, of its facilities galore, it’s heaven, a cloud of level seven, you shall see, for we shall visit it in a wee.”
After this impressive rhetoric, Mr. Dogra offered to take the two visitors to this place, and since Kamal’s ambassador was not a conducive ride for some of the narrow lanes that fell in their way, it was the property agent’s scooter which became their new mode of transport for the time being. And if the professor had thought that Rosa was a rough ride then this was an experience of a whole another level, oh how the face of this poetic man winced and his hands clutched at the shirt of the man sitting in front of him as that scooter jig jagged its way past some of the tight traffic in those narrow lanes.
It was only after what seemed like a lifetime of doing flip-flops in danger’s lap that the sweat inducing journey came to an end, and only minutes later Raghuvir and Kamal found themselves standing inside the place about which Mr. Dogra had earlier sang those encomiums.
Sound in its foundation – The flight of wooden stairs that led up to this first floor apartment, hadn’t they heard it squeak under their weights as they had ascended it?
Rich in its tradition – The beverage of tea was a big part of Ludhiana’s tradition, and there was a tea shop right underneath this apartment!
The furniture theres a swiss – The single charpai with a dust ridden cheap mattress, along with an old table fan (that may or may not work) in one corner of the room, Raghuvir very much doubted that these were Swiss imported.
Nothing is a-miss – Exactly! Nothing was a-miss. Blotched Walls, creepy spider webs, a thick layer of dust on the floor, the musty smell emanating out of the bathroom, oh yes! It had all of it and much more in ample doses.
Kindest of Owners in the whole land – Enters the owner, a fat scary looking man in a black Kurta Pajama, a big black mole near the corner of his thick upper lip. “Ay Ballu, tell them not to break the rules of this place, no fighting, no loud quarrels, or I will throw out their asses,” spoke he, in his heavy wolfish voice.
Any trouble the neighbors will lend a hand – “Abey o mother fucker, Kallu, stop you bastard, today you will die, throwing your garbage once again in front of my door, you will fucking die,” came a loud belligerent voice from the street below.
Water and electricity full 24 hours – “And yes, water comes for two hours in the morning and two hours in the evening, s
o plan your routine accordingly, and the electric generator got shot last summer, so don’t moan about it during electricity cuts.”
One’s mood there is never dour – yes, never dour, though always morbid.
Ain’t too cold, ain’t too hot, ain’t too airy, ain’t too clammy, a place where one feels no whammy – “and whichever sister fucker put that black magic doll at my door yesterday, he will die too today with that mother fucker Kallu!”
And what to say more, of its facilities galore – “and yes, don’t get any ac installed, it causes overload, no need for any alarm clock either, there is a factory next door, the noise of machines from there will automatically wake you up every morning.”
It’s a heaven, a cloud of level seven – 420, Swarg Bhavan, Meghdoot Gali, the address of this place. (Translates to Heaven House, Rain Messenger Street)
You shall see, for we shall visit it in a wee – But they were out of there in a wee! Both of them making a run for it under the cover of Kamal’s excuse that some urgent work had come up which required their immediate attention.
“What happened there?” the owner asked the property dealer, citing reason for this abrupt leave of his would-be tenants.
“They just need time to think about it, but I am sure they will say yes,” Ballu gulped, biting his lips in embarrassment. At this the old man gave him a look of better disdain, uncouthly scratched his balls through his pajama, and marched out of that grim apartment murmuring curses under his breath. But before Ballu could follow him out, his phone began to ring.
“Hullo ji, yes, Ballu property dealer speaking…”
“yes, yes….yes..okay…a house?…no problem Sir Ji..no problem at all Ji, I have a perfect place in mind..Sound in its foundation..rich in its tradition…”
*******
After scurrying out of that abysmal place, Raghuvir and Kamal hired a rickshaw to take them back to where their ambassador was parked, which if the readers remember was right in front of Mr. Dogra’s shop. Fortunately they managed to arrive there before the property dealer, which allowed them to make a quick getaway,
“I say we leave the dealers to their dealing, and through a newspaper, search for me a ceiling,” Raghuvir declared his intention once they were a safe distance away from Mr. Dogra’s shop.
Kamal expressed no objections to it, and so that was the course of action which they followed thereafter, picking up a local daily and using the advertisements in it as their guide.
Half a dozen houses they canvassed for the rest of the day, and it was only towards the evening that a suitable place at last presented itself to our questers. A neat and tidy second floor apartment that overlooked a broad street with a park on the other side, it endeared itself at once to our professor’s heart, and with luck on their side for the first time in the whole day, they were readily able to strike a rent agreement with the owner of the place.
What more, the owner even offered that if the professor so wished, he could move in to the place this evening itself! The professor was quick to lap it up, and promptly he and Kamal went back to the guest house to bring back his luggage.
A little while later they were in the Raghuvir’s room, about to pack up his things, when Kamal got a call on his cell phone, which dragged him out of that room and in to a solitary corner of the courtyard outside, where he remained for the next hour or so, conversing with the caller in a hush-hush voice.
Afterwards he rushed in to the room on an awaiting professor, with joy of some good news dripping down his face.
“This world is a most remarkable place professor, a most remarkable place,” he announced gleefully.
“An hour was enough time for the transformation of the ordinary in to the remarkable?” the professor asked, taking a dig at the young man.
“Leave alone an hour professor, when the universe is kind upon one, even a second is enough for it, as it was today,” Kamal replied, his enthusiasm undiminished.
“Imagine professor, just imagine, a girl and her father, walking in to the premises of a college to see its admission cut-off lists. Now imagine them walking to the notice board where these lists are displayed. A keen father with expectant eyes is now scanning through those lists, finding the relevant one and hoping to find his daughter’s name in it. From the bottom he begins, calling curses upon every name that he encounters which is not his daughter’s, the tension mounts as he edges towards the top, as fewer and fewer names remain, his curses get more vitriolic, five left, now four, three, two, and..his daughter’s name is not in there!” here Kamal paused with a dramatic sigh. “heartbreak, you must think that is what the poor father is going through right then, but he is more shell shocked than being aggrieved, you would ask me why professor? Well the name on top of that list is Rajesh Chaudhary; the name on the top of that cut-off list is none but his own!” And all of a sudden, Kamal broke in to loud, almost delirious laughter.
“It was his own professor, his own name in that list, where his daughter’s was supposed to be,” Clutching his belly he laughed, smacking his thighs he laughed some more, his mirth unrestrained. “And now imagine professor, just give your fancy some wings, and imagine this man’s shock turning to anger, his face turning from blue to red, as he marches towards the Registrar’s office, seeking an explanation for this lunacy. Almost throwing the door off its hinges, he barges in, straight he heads towards the registrar’s desk, with an unquenchable desire to spear his two red horns right in to his asinine heart, but before he could, that sneering registrar brings out from his armor a shield to protect himself, a shield that consists of the documents he had received for this admission..there it is, shining in stark day light, the admission form in his name, forged certificates in his name, both validating the actions of the college, and sending the father in to another shock, his face once again turning back to blue, and then eventually white as he learns that the names on that cut-off list cannot changed now, no matter what. So often bureaucracy is a nemesis professor, but see the marvelousness in the workings of this universe, that this day, it turned out to be bliss.”
“A girl got denied admission in a college by some strange events, and you are calling it bliss?” the professor asked, seeing nothing optimistic in the whole story.
“Bliss indeed professor, for this girl is kind of my…” here Kamal paused, letting a sheepish grin come across his features before continuing. “My girlfriend and she did not want to take admission in this particular college but had only applied there under her father’s pressure. So it means, that she will now be able to go to an institute of her own choice,” Kamal explained, and for a moment hesitated, before continuing. “She is really happy, and wants to celebrate with me this evening, so, I won’t be able to help you move in to your new house,” he revealed, his grin turning in to an apologetic grimace. “But don’t you worry none, I just called Miss Anoothi, explaining to her our situation, and she has agreed to give you a ride to your new place. She lives not far from here, and I will drop you at her house,” Kamal proposed, hoping the professor would accept this plan.
And Raghuvir did so readily, for this man whom he had barely known for a couple of weeks had already sacrificed half of his Sunday for him, asking him now to not go ahead with his tryst would be nothing less than sacrilege.
So soon, Raghuvir found himself standing at the door of the Rai household, from behind him he could hear the grumbling sounds of Rosa as it drove away, which filled him with a sense of relief, but quickly it vanished as he was greeted by the furious looking face of a history teacher. Rosa was gone, but now he had to deal with the woman they called Anoothi Rai.
*******
“Come in Mr. Dixit,” said Anoothi dryly, stepping aside to let the professor in to her house, her flaring nostrils and her twitching lips along with her loose mane of brown hair presently making her look like a tempestuous storm.
“Just give me five minutes, I shall be right back,” said she, before hurtling away, leaving the professor beh
ind in the living room. Alone he thought he was at first, but a little look around revealed to him the presence of a grave and desolated looking Mr. Rai sitting on an arm chair in a corner of the room.
“Oh, what do I do with this girl professor? Just what do I do with her?” the man who had been silent up to now moaned lamentingly as soon as he noticed Raghuvir’s gaze falling upon him.
“What is the matter Sir?” Raghuvir proceeded to ask; much concerned he was to see Mr. Rai in this sad state, which was a sharp contrast to his usual cheery and good humored persona.
“You tell me professor, whether a father is any wrong if he wishes for his little girl to settle down in life and find herself a family, if he desires for her to find a good man for herself and find her happiness and support in him. We all need someone to share our lives with professor, being a widower I know how hard it is to get by in this world without a partner, so if I wish for my daughter to not go through such hard times in her old age, am I any wrong in it? And if I am not, then why am I being castigated for it?” he repined. “See, an old friend is visiting me, and he has a son who is a settled Engineer, is of my daughter’s age, is very handsome looking from the pictures I have seen of him, but most importantly is single and looking to marry. Then if I want my daughter to just meet him once and see if they can get along, then what is the big sin in that?”
“The problem is not the meeting; the problem is that you went ahead and arranged it without even caring to ask me about it first,” suddenly came the sharp voice of Anoothi, who had reappeared in the room after getting herself ready.
Raghuvir was thankful for her return, for he was just not sure how to react to the old man’s bereavement, and was afraid that in trying to console him, he might end up committing a gaffe. He had never felt comfortable in meddling with other people’s personal affairs.