The 'Yahoo' Surge.

The ‘Yahoo’ Surge.

Part one

Chandrashekhar Gupta , just ‘Chandu’ to his friends, had learned to recognise these small yet discernible signs which had unfailingly, over the years, preceded an imminent windfall gain for himself. Chandu had in fact named these signs collectively, as the “Yahoo surge.” He was of course aware that there already existed a well-researched and documented ‘Eureka effect,’ which attempted to define the common human experience, wherein literally in a flash, one stumbles upon a perfect solution for a previously incomprehensible problem. Wikipedia described this as the ‘Aha Moment.’ In Chandu’s case however, there was a difference. It was not the ‘Aha’ one experiences when a stubborn problem, quite unexpectedly, gets resolved in a jiffy but was like a premonition – an intuitive awareness of context specific pleasant tidings. The qualifying difference between his Yahoo surge and the commonly understood ‘premonition,’ was the addition of certain physical sensations to the intuitive awareness. Ever since Chandu had discovered this attribute about himself, he had tried to find an explanation capable of reducing this supernatural ability he possessed, to an identifiable psychological condition, or to some historical parallel in the world. Chandu did not like to think of himself as an abnormal person.

Who would ?

Endless surfing on the internet, the Wikipedia and on-line libraries of all descriptions, did not reveal a similar condition in recorded history, by anyone. The signs were so eerie and followed such a definite sequence, that he had come to accept their onset with trepidation. At the same time, he was thrilled with whatever followed the surge, because it heralded, as said, only the strikingly positive.

Other than this peculiarity about Chandu, there was nothing else in his personality which would suggest an aberration capable of instigating a consequence as strange as this surge. His intelligence had been put to test and was found to be significantly above average, when he qualified for an entrance examination which landed him his present job. Good looking to a fault, his 5 feet 10 inches placed him in the ‘tall’ category and his physique, which he had aggressively moulded by pumping iron and using the borrowed ‘Bull worker,’ was proportionate. Not a gifted sportsman, he nevertheless dabbled with a few indoor and outdoor games. Chandu was aware of his undeniable charisma which he exuded and had come to expect the silent adulation he always received, primarily because of his pleasant visage. He did not possess any talent for singing, though. This at times did sadden him since his siblings were remarkably well endowed with the ability to enthral audiences, belting out popular numbers. A definite hypochondriac ever since childhood when he was too young to even understand the condition as a psychological disorder, and a low level of self-worth persistently sending a strong negative feedback to his ego, completed his complex persona. Paradoxically, Chandu with an attractive and well-proportioned physique and matching mental faculties was beset with a crippling lack of self-confidence. Being tongue-tied and suffering from an insurmountable stage fright, severely restricted any ambition he may have nurtured for developing as a performer or a public speaker. The ‘Yahoo surge’ thus became the only redeeming aspect about himself in his own esteem.

Chandu had known about this strange aberration in his personality ever since his childhood. He had not put a structure to it back then, but had realised that he could depend on the surge with unfailing certainty. That it indicated some pleasant and positive happening was flagged by the surge before any other obvious and discernible contextual manifestation could present itself. As the years passed, Chandu started putting a shape to this unique ESP. He had discovered the pattern, the specific unvarying steps which constituted the beginning of a surge. It would start with a tingling on the nape as if a large insect was crawling up his spine. The sensation would be strong and real, which could not be ignored or go unnoticed. Immediately after that, he would be gripped by the unnerving feel of duality with his own physical self. Lobsang Rampa, the fabled Tibetan Dalai Lama has written about the “Astral” body as different from one’s physical body, in one of his books. Chandu felt like his astral form was de-linking and floating away to watch his physical body from a vantage point overhead - as if observing a play enacted by a third person. The chain of signals would be completed lastly, by a sharp buzzing sound in his ears, which would not last for more than a couple of seconds. Since these three links in that specific sequence, would occur in rapid succession whenever something good or positive was about to happen to him, Chandu had thought of calling the phenomenon as the Yahoo surge. The ‘Yahoo’ clearly signified ecstatic joy. 

The positive premonition flagged by the surge, did not necessarily foretell a windfall in terms of money only, though more often than not, this was the case. In the final M. Sc. examination for instance, Chandu glanced at the sealed packet obviously containing the day’s question paper and the first sign, which he had by then understood as the first link of the “Yahoo surge,” appeared. In a rapid succession, the other two links in the chain followed.  At the stroke of 10 a.m. the packet was opened and the two invigilators distributed the question papers to all examinees. Glancing at the questions – Chandu realised that the preparation he had done for this subject, viz. Organic Chemistry, was uncannily aligned with the questions set by the examiner ! He remembered having tackled the questions one after the other. Of course, he had done exceedingly well in that particular subject. 

Chandu’s first ever encounter with this ‘special power’ happened when, as a teenager, he was travelling from Mumbai (Bombay, back then) to Lucknow. The journey entailed a six-hour halt in New Delhi and onward travel by another train going east. He had reserved tickets for both the legs of the trip. Being a student Chandu had very limited money on himself when he reached New Delhi. He called up an old friend and they met somewhere in Connaught Place. Meeting each other after such a long time, they re-lived their memories of the great times spent together in college. A leisurely lunch and walk around CP took away time very fast, and it was with a shock that Chandu realised that he may miss the train to Lucknow.

And he did !

On New Delhi railway station, with only a meagre refund amount in his pocket, Chandu was in serious trouble. He did not want go back to his friend’s place as that would have meant exposing his own sloppy and careless ways. Lost in thought and worried – he went up to the enquiry window. Waiting for his turn in the small queue, he was considering various scenarios for the remainder of his botched up journey, one of which he must choose. He was mentally prepared for travelling without ticket in an unreserved compartment, and the only information he sought was timings for trains going towards Bihar or Bengal, via Kanpur. Kanpur was a busier junction and the distance from Kanpur to Lucknow was not a cause for worry.

Just then, the two persons before him finished their enquiries and made way for Chandu to approach the dealing clerk. He asked eagerly,

“Are there any trains to Kanpur leaving from here now?”

“Yes” said the clerk wearily, and added “there is Tinsukia Mail about to leave in an hour’s time.”

“Would there be any seat reservations available on that?” asked Chandu hopefully.

“You will have to enquire at the reservation counter.” he replied rather unhelpfully.

Chandu was desperately angling for some nuggets of information, some helpful tips – which would provide him a ray of hope, but none seemed to come his way from the sleepy and irritable window clerk. Having exhausted all avenues of eliciting a sympathetic response, Chandu at last stepped slightly backwards to pick up his VIP overnighter.

Then it struck. The crawling sensation on his nape, the feeling of floating away from his body looking at himself from an elevated position, and the sharp buzzing sound in his ears. He was perplexed by the irritating cumulative effect of these sensations, when his eyes spotted the Rs 100/- note lying creased four-fold against the wall under the counter. 45 years ago, Rs. 100 was a big amount. Making as if to tie his shoe-laces, Chandu quickly stooped and pushed the folded note under his shoes. He scooped the note and pocketed it after making sure that no one was taking any undue interest in his actions. Armed with this wealth, he travelled to Kanpur in a First Class compartment on Tinsukia Mail, with some money to spare for the next train ride to Lucknow and home. He was reflecting on the lucky break he had had at the enquiry counter and remembered the strange physical experience he had just before the saviour currency note made its blessed appearance. That being the first of his surges, he could not readily link up the two.     

The next time this happened, he was walking in the market. There was a huge crowd as it was the local ‘mandi’ day and people were jostling along to get further crammed in the central chowk like sardines. Chandu was making slow progress moving towards his house for lunch and was getting irritated by the sheer multitudes around. There was the sudden crawling, tingling sensation again on his nape and the other two symptoms also quickly followed. Chandu expected something good when these signals appeared, as his thoughts had repeatedly gone back many a times in the days and months which followed to that New Delhi railway station episode, a couple of years ago. Reliving those moments, he had felt certain that this physical sensation had a definite link to whatever followed immediately thereafter.

Eventually, he had linked the surge with the ‘windfall’ of that lifesaving hundred rupee note, albeit without certainty. But this was exactly similar to that prior experience, and he anticipated some good turn, some pleasant happening, or some monetary gain once again. And yes, he realised that he had stepped on something bulky. Bending down he managed to get hold of it after considerable squirming and pushing. It was a purse – a wallet – thickly jammed with currency notes of large denominations. Chandu looked around hoping to see someone distressed by the loss of such a large amount. There was no one he could spot with that unmistakeable expression of anxiety and distress, which such a person would wear on his face. He contemplated taking the wallet to the Police Patrol van parked in the Chowk, but decided against it for reasons we all know. 

After five years of service in his organisation, Chandu was eligible for a staff housing loan. Lucknow Development Authority (LDA) was constructing houses in areas on the periphery of the city, and since there was a large unfulfilled demand for housing, the system of allocation was designed on the ‘lottery pattern’ or a lucky dip. Chandu and his wife had applied for an MIG type house and had been invited to witness the allocations arranged in a Town Hall large enough to accommodate a huge anticipated turn out. They were seated in the hall with other hopefuls, awaiting results of the lucky draw arranged by LDA.

The lottery system was primitive, with a large drum which had chits containing names of all applicants folded twice and stirred up using a handle which rotated the drum on its long axis. After several turns the chits obviously mixed up well. The Commissioner of LDA and a few other public figures and politicians were seated on the dais. One by one members of the public who volunteered for the draws, were asked to come up on stage and pull out one chit. Considering the hugely adverse ratio of limited available houses and the disproportionately large number of applicants, Chandu harboured no hopes of getting a house allocated in his name. He anxiously whispered to his wife,

“We don’t stand a chance, Geeta,” and added, “the system looks fair but one in 25 is the ratio for getting a lucky allocation.”

Geeta, Chandu’s wife, was an incorrigible optimist. Her outlook was always positive. She whispered back, “Wait Chandu, why are you jumping to negative conclusions,” she muttered crossly and added, “The lottery has not even reached midway?”

“I know my luck; we will go back empty handed” whined Chandu.

But no sooner had he said that, a chill went up his spine, tingling his nape with the now familiar crawling sensation. Quickly on its heels followed the detachment of his ‘astral’ body and the sharp buzzing in his ears. He couldn’t believe his luck as the surge meant a windfall with a positive outcome for his immediate concern. Chandu immediately shifted his eyes to the person on the stage, who had just then pulled out a chit from the drum. He focused his attention to the announcement calling out names of lucky allotees.

It was not Chandrashekhar Gupta!

He was devastated. It felt as if he was disrobed publicly. He had come to depend on this God gift and had assumed that the ‘power’ will always be with him. Moved almost to tears by the sudden termination of his unique ESP, his immediate thought was to go away from the LDA auditorium. He turned to Geeta and said,

                “I am telling you, there is no hope for us. Let’s go !”

                “Why ?” she exclaimed “There are still about 30 allocations to be done.”  

“It’s not that, Geeta,” he looked at her with deepest anguish, “my Yahoo surge is not giving expected result.” Chandu had only confided in her about his unique ability to foresee certain things before they actually manifested themselves. 

“You had those signals just now?” Geeta asked incredulously and with wide-eyed glee.

“Yes,” “But my name was not announced !” he exclaimed, “Two more lots have since been pulled out!” Chandu was now almost hysterical.

“Shoo!” Geeta admonished him. “Wait for some more time.” The Yahoo surge has never failed you thus far. It will not fail you today too.”

He could only marvel at her confidence.

As if on cue, and giving Geeta’s pet theory of the power of positive thinking a huge boost, the LDA official bellowed on the microphone, “Chandrashekhar Gupta.” Sparse and ritual claps accompanied the announcement. Chandu literally jumped up with unrestrained joy. On their way out of the auditorium, Geeta again drove her point home.

“You give up too easily, Chandu,” “have some faith – if not in yourself then at least in the Yahoo surge !”  She chirped.

“Agreed, begum sahiba !” Chandu piped in, beaming ear to ear. 

He later realised that the time gap between his beloved Yahoo surge that day and the announcement was caused by the pile of chits pulled out by the volunteers who were trooping up to the stage and performing the mechanical part assigned to them. The process thereafter entailed recording the name in a register against the lot arranged seriatim and obtaining signatures of the LDA officials on the same. This created a backlog and though the surge must have got triggered when his name was picked up by a volunteer, the actual announcement followed a good ten minutes thereafter.   

--<>--

Part two

Prakash Shrivastava, “PS” to his friends – was Chandu’s fastest chum. Malcolm Gladwell in the “The Tipping Point,” describes persons like PS as the ‘Connectors.’ A connector is a gregarious and outgoing person, having a large sphere of acquaintances with people across social, cultural, professional and economic circles. In fact, Chandu’s own friend circle was almost entirely introduced to him by PS.

Although they were together since school it was much later – in college – that they became thicker friends. In many ways, PS was diametrically opposite to Chandu. Much taller at 6 feet 2 inches, long legged and scrawny without an iota of useless flab, he was a sportsman through and through. Excelling in Badminton, Table Tennis and Cricket, he could also outperform experienced and well heeled Carrom players. A keen theatre enthusiast, his experience on stage had driven all vestiges of ‘stage fright’ (if he ever had any) away. PS may not have been as good looking as Chandu, but he had made up for this small single shortcoming in comparison – by his exalted and indefatigable self confidence. Domineering and aggressive, PS would emerge on top of any situation whereas Chandu did not even attempt challenging decisions taken by him. Small ‘victories’ scored by PS were resented by Chandu. To watch which particular movie  – for instance – was a decision taken by PS even in a group of friends as large as ten or twelve, none of who would differ.  Chandu sulked inwardly but tagged along reluctantly. PS, on the other hand, took his own leadership for granted. A challenge from any quarter was systematically demolished through reason and logic. He always had the force of sound rationality for proposing any specific choice and if ever he was countered with another – he would convincingly prove how and why his decision was the best.

Chandu genuinely appreciated PS’s qualities and was happy to play second fiddle. His sub-conscious however kept accumulating the perceived insults and slight he faced repeatedly – when smallest of his suggestions were overruled by PS’s well evaluated and deeply examined alternatives. Of course, it is not to suggest that there was never any concurrence on any issue between the two. When Chandu made a suggestion which matched PS’s – there would obviously be an immediate agreement. Clearly, PS was not interested in deliberately running down Chandu as would perhaps be evident if he would assume a stand in opposition, regardless of merits in the issue.   It was, on the other hand, only when Chandu felt the need to go for a confrontation; with the intention of ramming his own choice down other’s throats for the sake of establishing his clout on the group of their common friends, and when he was put down on the strength of stronger arguments and better logic by PS, that the feeling of strong resentment took a deeper hold.

PS’s popularity soared as time went by. It so happened that PS and Chandu were both selected by the same Company as management trainees. Adding to the peer group competition of school and college days, now there was professional competition too. Here also, PS scored better consistently and was soon promoted to yet higher echelons while Chandu dragged. Outwardly, there was no friction between the two friends. Even by himself in his own mind; Chandu would not have accepted the insinuation that he harboured ill-will towards PS. He was not even aware how the deep unknown recesses of his sub-conscious were capturing each defeat, each slight and insult and clouding his judgement. He gradually started believing in his own warped theory which identified PS as his enemy number one. PS to his credit, never by design pulled anyone down. His was a game of one is to one transaction which followed one simple rule, that of winning the argument at any cost. Annihilating the opponent decisively was the end of game and all that transpired while the game was being played – was erased completely. He carried no baggage. Chandu’s baggage, on the other hand, was growing heavier by the day.

The next day after the LDA house allocation, Chandu entered the office in a very happy frame of mind. Humming under his breath, he sat at his desk and commenced sorting out papers and files for yet another day of drudgery, albeit with a cheerful countenance.  PS was quick to notice this and ambled over to his desk, and raising his eyebrows questioningly, asked;

                “Looking very pleased with yourself Chandu, what’s the good news?” 

Chandu was expecting this, and answered gushingly, “Yaar, yesterday’s lottery for house allocations went off well and I have been lucky to get it.”

“Oh ! Congratulations, Chandu” and added, “Party !!?”

“Sure thing boss !” “Let’s inform the gang for a get together someplace.”

“I will do that.” PS offered, and added as an afterthought, “But is that the real reason or is there something more to it ?”

“Not really” said Chandu. Unable to restrain his excitement, he blurted out, “There is something I have been wanting to share with you since long !”

“I know” said PS, “You are so transparent !” “So what is it ?”

Chandu knew he would take a long time to explain his Yahoo Surge to a pucca rationalist like PS, and said, “Yaar, we can talk in the lunch recess without being hauled up for gossiping in the office ?”

“Roger” said PS and returned to his desk.

Later that day Chandu and PS polished off their lunch boxes extra quick and settled down for the secret sharing deferred earlier that day. Chandu briefly outlined the mysterious ‘surge’ which gave out signals, heralding good tidings. He detailed the latest experience in the LDA auditorium.

PS was silent for some time with a slight smirk on his face. Breaking his silence after a while, he asked,

                “So, this ‘surge’ – does it happen always or is it once in a while ?”

                “No” said Chandu, “it happens invariably, without fail !”

“I see” smiled PS, making no effort at concealing his disbelief. But quickly wiped off the smirk lest he antagonises Chandu and blocks off more of the juicy stuff. “OK, but tell me, have you tested the efficacy of your Yahoo surge on some kind of contrived situation ?”

“Like what ?” countered Chandu, immediately assuming a defensive stance.

“Like, say, going to a lottery vendor and looking at the unsold ticket booklets ?” and added to make his point clear, “If you get the surge, you are sure to be within easy reach of untold riches !”  

“No it does not work that way, PS” Chandu replied condescendingly. “It is only a premonition. I get it only when something destined to come my way, is before me.” He added after a pause, “So far – monetary or otherwise, whatever I have landed as a windfall gain, has actually been in store for me. I only have the ability of getting prior signals about them.”

“How can you be sure that the gains you talk about, are actually destined to come your way ?” PS wanted to know.

“See,” clarified Chandu, “I had worked very hard for my Organic Chemistry paper. It would seem natural for me to do well in that subject.” Chandu avoided any mention of divine justice and added, “The surge merely gave me a prior indication.”

“That is interesting, Chandu” agreed PS. “Anyway, let us not talk about this to others” his hyperactive brain was obviously going into top gear.

“Alright, done !” Said Chandu.

“But I still have some doubts” PS pressed on.

“Yes ?” Chandu said, “shoot !”

“If you stumble upon a purse as you described earlier, WITHOUT the surge and its sequential signs, would it be wrong to pocket it ?”

“Yes....” “that is also tested” Chandu clarified. He described how once while travelling in an auto rickshaw, he saw a cell phone on the seat. It was a new cell phone. Obviously, the earlier passenger had forgotten it there. Unmindful of the lack of his faithful Yahoo surge on this occasion, he reached for it. The rickshaw driver saw him in the rear view mirror and immediately pre-empted any unsavoury designs by informing him loudly that it was his phone and that he may kindly pass it to him.

“I was too ashamed of myself” confided Chandu. “Had the driver been a bit late in forestalling my sleazy move – that of stealthily pocketing it, I would have felt so embarrassed and ashamed of myself.”

“Right,” PS moved ahead with his next question, “If there is a time-gap, as you just told me about the LDA lottery allocations, and you move away,” the shrewd brain of PS wedged on, “will the ‘destined’ windfall be lost ?”

“I have never experimented on those lines so far. But I had come close to it when I wanted myself and Geeta to leave the LDA auditorium yesterday.” He added after some thought on the aspect, “I should try doing that when the stakes are not very high !” and smiled.

Typical of PS to evaluate issues so thoroughly, Chandu thought reflecting on the questions posed by him.

“Well then, lastly,” PS pressed on, “there is clearly no scope of putting your ‘Surge’ theory to test. Correct ?” “I mean, it is just a few moments before the good tidings break upon you or a short time gap after you get the surge, that reason for experiencing it becomes apparent ?”

“Precisely” agreed Chandu with palpable relief. 

“Dumbo,” PS went on, “What is so great about this ‘power’ then ?” “You cannot put it to any strategized use for making money, you cannot bend the ‘destined’ course of events and you cannot willingly summon the surge when you would like to test whether to go ahead with a choice or to abandon it altogether, right ?” PS asked with that derisive smirk which Chandu so detested.

This was yet another insult which Chandu had to swallow.

“Not really,” he stuck to his ground and added, “at least I know what to expect when the surge holds out a promise.”

Chandu himself realised with growing disdain that the discussion with PS had laid bare the hollowness of his Yahoo surge. He felt like a clown. He regretted having confided in PS about his special God given gift. As usual, PS had analysed the issue with the precision of a surgeon. He had not only ridiculed Chandu, he had also made him look downright stupid.  The last layer of utter dislike for PS was thus firmly spread over the accumulated grime. He now wanted to inflict bodily harm on him and inwardly resolved to somehow use the surge for achieving that.     

It so happened, however, that a few days after their discussion about Chandu’s strange ESP,  the two of them visited the famous Sahara Mall at Hazaratganj. In the parking lot, they were accosted by a Raffle Ticket Vendor. The mall had put up large hoardings at the entrance, announcing a daily draw with just one prize of Rs. 50,000/-

The ticket vendor thrust a booklet in Chandu’s face and started enticing him with the usual high pressure sales pitch. “It’s just Rs. 500 per ticket Sir” he informed. “Amazing odds – only 100 tickets are sold daily and the draw is in the evening.” He further let out the secret that he had the last two tickets which could win them the prize money. Chandu decided to cause some monetary loss to PS for starters, and feigned the onset of his Yahoo surge.  PS looked at him with alarm as Chandu shook with a discernible spasm.

“What’s happening Chandu ?” he asked with friendly concern.

“PS, I just had the surge” replied Chandu. “These tickets are going to win the prize definitely” he added, with all the conviction he could put in his little act.

“So buy them” advised PS.

“No.” Chandu retorted, “Since you had so many doubts about my ‘Yahoo surge’, you buy them !”

PS pulled out his wallet and handed over a thousand rupees to the vendor. He was intrigued by his friend’s confidence and mere thousand rupees were worth the risk to ascertain the truth in Chandu’s tall claims. Chandu, on the other hand, was gleeful at having bettered his arch rival and the chance which he had tactfully ‘strategized’ to make PS bite dust in the evening. What a laugh he would have in front of all the friends!   

Smugly satisfied with the little heist he had pulled off so easily against Mr. Know-all, Chandu patted himself mentally. The duo walked towards the entrance of the Mall. The usual security-check channel was queued up with shoppers and they had to file in one by one through the metal detector arch. PS passed through, had himself frisked and entered the mall. Chandu was about to step forward when the Yahoo surge, this time actually, overwhelmed him. The three distinct indications followed in the usual rapid succession. Chandu looked around, not sure what lay in store for him now. Somehow he felt that he must conceal this ‘second’ surge from PS for the time being. But his curiosity was aroused to its peak as he was not faced with any immediate reason for the surge to signal a windfall gain.

Chandu told PS hurriedly, “Hey, why don’t you go to Mc Donald’s and wait for me ?”

He indicated the universal pee sign raising his pinkie and pointed towards the rest rooms. Without waiting for any response from PS, he made a dash towards the loos. Once he was hidden from PS behind the crowd thronging the passages, he frantically looked around trying to spot some reason as to why the surge had appeared. Time was ticking, and he knew that there would be a certain window of opportunity within which he must act so as to get hold of the booty. This aspect was yet untested and yet PS had uncannily brought it up during their discussion. He raced ahead blindly hoping to see something which would fit the bill. His experiences thus far had been proximate. The wallet under his foot, the question papers on the invigilator’s desk... all easily linked up and obvious. This time he was rankled by the blind game the surge was playing with him.

As he turned towards a dimly lit passage – he realized that he had entered an under construction annexe. There were cement bags, bricks and steel rods etc. strewn all over. In those messy surroundings near a heap of cement bags there was a large sized bag, the likes of which Medical representatives usually carry. The bag gleamed like a jewel in the drab surroundings and seemed as discordant as a Porsche in the middle of Dharavi slums. Drawn towards it like a magnet, he felt certain that this was what the surge had foretold.

-()-

Part three.

Surprised by the hurried manner in which Chandu departed, PS strolled towards Mc Donalds. There was an unexpected momentary hush a few moments thereafter, as an announcer’s voice crackled on the television, hooked obviously to the CCTV system of the Mall. It flashed the face of Chandu as the voice declared the person seen entering the Mall as the 10 millionth visitor to their establishment. The voice gushed “This gentleman is our ten millionth customer since we established this Mall in Lucknow. Our system has been keeping a count of visitors and the ten millionth customer would be given a cash prize of ten million rupees!”

PS was overjoyed. He looked around for his friend. As he was contemplating calling him on the cell phone, there was another announcement on the public address system. The speaker advised people inside the Mall to maintain calm and to be on the lookout for suspicious objects or unaccompanied baggage. The speaker further cautioned that as per police information, a terrorist plan to plant a bomb in the Mall was intercepted. However, there was no need to panic and the advice went ahead with the usual do’s and don’ts, in such situations.

For PS putting two and two together was not difficult. The fact that Chandu had rushed away immediately on entering the Mall under the pretext of going to the rest room and the likelihood of unaccompanied baggage being there, somewhere in the Mall, did not require exceptional intelligence to link up. PS feared that Chandu might have had another of his Yahoo surges – and would perhaps stumble upon this baggage said to contain an explosive device. If he so much as touches it – thinking the surge implied this abandoned bag – the bomb would detonate. PS had felt that there was something amiss as soon as the two had entered the Mall. He was sharp enough to notice the sudden change of expression on Chandu’s face. The ten millionth count, recorded by the system wherever it was installed, must have been processed by the back office and a certain time lapse would obviously follow prior to making an announcement of this financial magnitude.

PS rushed madly in the general direction Chandu had headed. Luckily, he also turned into the passage where the annexe was under construction. He saw Chandu move towards the bag and screamed at the top of his voice, “Chandu, leave it alone – it is a bomb!” But Chandu was mesmerized by the prospect of getting enormous wealth on a platter.  He did not slow down. PS made a last ditch attempt and dived wrapping his arms around Chandu’s feet. The two of them sprawled in a heap a few feet away from the bag – completely winded. PS got up a second later than Chandu which was enough for Chandu to land a forceful kick in his stomach. PS went down crashing. Chandu knew his super smart friend had somehow got whiff of the windfall his surge had foretold and had come to claim it before he himself could place his hands on the booty. Unfortunately, the TV announcement and the Police announcement – both were missed in this ‘under construction’ section of the Mall. Chandu wanted to punish PS for all his sins against him. He took a stance and aimed another kick – this time on his chin. The force of his kick almost broke PS’s neck. Yet he kept going towards Chandu and yelling “There is a bomb, there is a bomb !!” Finally, with all the strength that he could muster and overcoming the seething pain inflicted by Chandu on him, PS managed to pin him down. He yelled again with all his lung power, in Chandu’s face,

“You idiot – there is a bomb planted by terrorists in that bag !”

“Wha..” spluttered Chandu.

“Yes.”

“Goodness !” exclaimed Chandu.

The gist of what had actually happened dawned upon Chandu and he realized the grave mistake he had made in judging his friend. Guilty of having put PS to a certain loss of Rs. 1000/- he started apologising and even offered to set off that loss by reimbursing the amount to PS.

“Whoa” cried PS, “Hold on you dumbo !” Beaming beatifically, he informed Chandu, “It is 6.30 p.m. yaar, and the Raffle result is out. Believe it or not, I am the lucky winner of Rs. 50 thousand !”

As an afterthought PS added, “It seems, your Yahoo surge does make exceptions.” “Else, why would this ‘destined’ gain not be heralded by it, this time?”  

Chandu decided to avoid contesting the point as apparently, what PS said made sense. He felt no regrets at the question mark raised on the infallibility of the surge. Deep down, Chandu wanted to get away from it himself.

The friends’ gang that day celebrated the house allocation and the drama which followed at the Mall.

A tale-ender.

Chandu weaned himself away from the enticing web of the surge. He would have those spells off and on, but as time passed by, his own disinterest in the phenomenon perhaps caused its frequency to reduce gradually and eventually to stop altogether.

Some wise guy has said it beautifully, “It all about Mind over Matter, if you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.”

Instead of dwelling overmuch on imagined insults and humiliations, instead of treating friendly banter as a game of one-up-man-ship, had Chandu learnt to accept his weaknesses and develop his core strengths and skills – he would have not seen drawn daggers and sharpened knives in the shadows.

But then, all’s well that ends well.

Sanjeev Bhakay    

      

We... The (Also) Living !

WE… THE (ALSO) LIVING

Part one

Dinesh Singh opened the door after picking up the newspaper and sundry pamphlets and sales brochures cluttering the small passageway leading to his two room office sharp at 9.30 a.m. His body ached from the bus journey last night which had not been comfortable at all. A bus ride from Belagavi (erstwhile ‘Belgaum’) to Pune was not enjoyable or relaxing by any stretch of imagination, even if the bus boasted of being air conditioned with reclining seats. He had had boarded the bus at 11.30 pm and was sleepy because of the hectic day he had in Belagavi. It is about 375 kilometres from Pune and the road is part of the ‘Golden Quadrilateral,’ supposedly equipped with world class features and quality workmanship. The journey still takes almost 7 hours. Add the local intra-city commute by noisy, polluting and carelessly driven auto rickshaws and you have a ready recipe for a depressing and sleepy aftermath. The bus had reached Swargate Bus Station, Pune, at 8.45 the next morning and he barely had the time to shower and change for his office.

He would have slept in the so-called reclining seat last night, since the air conditioning was good and he had been lucky enough to get the window seat in the mid-section of the large Volvo ‘Neeta’ bus. One problem was back-to-back screening of Govinda films on the TV mounted behind the driver’s cabin. The films were blaring inane songs and obnoxious double meaning dialogues, mouthed by the disgusting duo Kader Khan and Shakti Kapoor. The images shook violently with every minor shake of the bus and the speakers hissed with static so irritatingly, that the totality of viewing those distasteful films caused more agony than the entertainment they were supposed to offer. Dinesh had tried to persuade the driver-cum-conductor to switch off the disturbance – but had to withdraw hastily, since a group of students in their late teens vociferously demanded continuation of that torture. Not content with having the films run their course, they periodically jumped into the narrow aisle whenever Govinda started gyrating on-screen and matched his pelvic thrusts in an embarrassing frenzy. The other problem which had unnerved him completely and driven his sleep away, was what he had learned about his client’s husband in the Alurkar Resort. The bus made a couple of stops enroute, but Neeta Transport Company’s selection of way-side hotels and dhabas was obviously based on some kind of commission paying agreement with those establishments. Dingy, unclean and largely patronised by truckers and drunk, shabby and loud-mouthed customers, these joints had an unwelcome appearance to put it mildly. Dinesh preferred to remain seated in the bus despite having worked up a healthy appetite. A visit to the filthy loo had to be endured and he was over with it.  

In his active career as a policeman, Dinesh had enjoyed a certain aura of power brought on by the uniform and his rank of Assistant Commissioner of Police (Crime Branch). After being denied his next promotion as Commissioner, he had preferred to put in his papers. His reputation as an upright officer and his qualities as an effective, intelligent and bold administrator were not acceptable to the ‘system.’ Wherever Dinesh had gone on postings, his clash with entrenched wheeler dealers and manipulators within the force enjoying support from local and state politicians and shady businessmen, became a pattern. Hounded by Corporators and MLAs of all hues and shades, he would soon receive marching orders to the next place. Dinesh remained unmarried after his fiancé ditched him for a wealthy businessman’s son. The parting had been painful and he had barely managed to retain his sanity after the sordid affair. He had not been able to ‘move on’ as his friends advised, and had remained insulated from advances made by numerous over-eager, attractive and eminently suitable women thereafter. A few had even tried to win over his attention by pulling him into their social circles and their family functions. Dinesh on his part also made conscious efforts at forgetting the past and at turning a new leaf, so to speak, albeit without much success. But his single status gradually grew into a habit. As he matured he started resenting any encroachment on his space. As a policeman, his focus was not blurred by anxieties concerning a ‘family.’ He had nothing to worry on that score even when his assignments took him away from his station.   

He had seen his colleagues try and manipulate postings so as to be able to take good care of children’s education, wife’s social life and her career compulsions – if they were also working ladies – and as a trade-off, compromise on the basics of their policing duties. He had also seen how organised crime syndicates would hold out veiled threats against officers’ families. There had been instances aplenty when children and wives of such ‘tough’ officers were harassed openly and even kidnapped for a ‘hands off’ warning in ransom.  

Such issues had not bothered Dinesh. His ‘family’ consisted only of his parents in Lucknow. As an IPS officer of the 1988 batch, he belonged to the Maharashtra cadre. He was selected to the IPS at the age of 24 after graduating in Political Science from the University of Lucknow. Dinesh had made up his mind to join the police department when he was a kid aged 12 years. His height at almost 6 feet and a muscular lean frame coupled with handsome good looks made up a striking personality. Mature, intelligent and single-minded of purpose, he had by and by acquired all relevant qualifications including physical fitness, to make sure that he was selected in the tough UPSC competitive examination for allied services. He would have scaled the hierarchy to become the top cop, but for his upright bearing.

Weighed against the ignominy of kowtowing the spineless ‘system’ and turning a blind eye towards blatant misuse of power by elected representatives across party lines – he was able to convince himself that parting ways with the department was perhaps a sensible thing to do. He was not an escapist and chickening out was not an option for him. He had won laurels in difficult and sensitive operations involving organised crime, terrorist activities and insurgency in the North East and Kashmir. He however could not bring himself to fuss and fawn over politicians and bosses who wanted their egos to be massaged by ambitious careerists in the force. He would never attend parties where one was supposed to mingle with the high and mighty and he never invited bosses and their families for dinners etc. in furtherance of his career. He soon became ‘dispensable’ and was overlooked for the next logical promotion he was well entitled to receive.

He resigned from the service in March 2015.  

Before taking this extreme step, he had given a serious thought to alternate vocations to keep himself busy. Fifty-one years in age was no stage in life to relax and rust. The logical occupation was to establish a Private Investigation outfit. Contacts, experience and physical ability to put in strenuous effort at sleuthing, were attributes which would stand him in good stead. He owned a licensed firearm viz. a semi-automatic Pistol 9mm 1A - which he was duly authorised to retain after paying its book value.  He had, long ago, invested in a two room self-contained top floor ‘office,’ in the twelve storied building where he also owned a 3 BHK flat on the third floor. He had gradually furnished the place while in service and by February 2015 – a month before he resigned, the office had all the paraphernalia required for running a private Investigator’s set up. Dinesh had equipped his office with detection devices, audio accessories, private investigator kits, recording equipment, spy gear, video gadgets, cameras, mobile security and accessories etc.

In May 2015, he inserted a classified advertisement in most of the local dailies in Marathi, Hindi and English announcing services which his agency could handle. His rates and terms were at par with the established names in the trade like Globe Detective Agency, Sleuths India Detectives and National Bureau of Investigations etc. He also advertised in magazines and launched a well-designed web site with all required particulars. He named his business “Dinesh Detective Agency.” The board put up on the society boundary wall carried the narration:

Dinesh Detective Agency for all your private investigation needs viz.

·         Pre marital investigation of credentials

·         Infidelity / Adultery and Divorce investigations

·         Missing Persons

·         Employee Cheating and Fraud

·         Property Issues

·         Mystery Shopping

·         Sting Operations and

·         Risk Investigators.

  By appointment on all week days between 9.30 a.m. and 7.30 p.m.

Dinesh was well aware of the growing need for such services and the acute shortage of qualified and experienced operatives offering the same in India. He was also aware of the mistrust people had for fly-by-night scamsters who could not be trusted with confidential information. He was banking on his impeccable track record in the Police department – a fact which he had highlighted on the web-site. He had tremendous patience and was willing to wait for business to walk in eventually. He made it a point, nevertheless, to be in his office at 9.30 a.m. sharp regardless of any appointments, fixed or not.

His office, with two fairly large sized rooms consisted of a waiting area in the front which had a desk, a filing cabinet and a desktop with an HP 3545 colour printer hooked on. This outer office had a swing door with a thick frosted glass mounted on a solid wood frame and hinged to its frame with a powerful door-closer. By the first week of June, 2015, his PI agency had started receiving a steady flow of customers. Most of the contracts he signed with clients pertained to sleuthing on fidelity of spouses. These were simple assignments and Dinesh felt acutely underutilized. The trick was perseverance and an ability to merge with the surroundings. Given his striking personality and handsome good looks, this was a problem indeed. Dinesh got over this ‘handicap’ by feigning a marked stoop, use of a walking stick and a very drab and unremarkable attire consisting of frayed jeans and Tee shirt washed till they looked ill-fitting and dull. After retirement he had grown a beard and let his hair grow. He now also sported a pony-tail which transformed his appearance markedly. He was not an overly gregarious person and actually preferred to be with himself. Yet, when in the company of friends and relatives – he would be the soul of the party. A moderate drinker, a music and dance lover, an avid reader, who could retell jokes and humorous anecdotes without faltering or messing up the punch-lines; he was generally liked by all.         

In a short span of about three months he had assisted numerous customers in gathering sufficient hard proof of their spouse’s cheating and deceitful waywardness. He had also carried out a pre-marital check on one of his client’s prospective groom and had forewarned her of his drug habit.

Day before yesterday he had gone to Belagavi to gather proof in a case where the wife suspected infidelity of her husband, Mr. Subhash Chandra Chauhan. Mrs. Sumitra Chauhan had approached him a month ago seeking incontrovertible proof which would nail him well and proper. She wanted a divorce and was gunning for a handsome out-of-court settlement in the process. This was a simple assignment for Dinesh, which entailed following Mr. Chauhan from his Lullanagar residence in the affluent suburb of Pune city and keep all his movements under surveillance till he returned home at night.  Mr. Chauhan, a reputed Jeweller who owned a fancy showroom on East Street in the Camp area was middle aged, portly and given to extravagant likes. Strangely, he preferred to drive his Audi Q7 himself instead of employing a driver. The ‘strangeness’ of this arrangement soon resolved itself, when Dinesh saw him make sudden and irregular trips during the day, to different hotels in and around Pune. Obviously, a driver would have been an inconvenience.

Dinesh used his electronic gadgetry to record all these movements, made elaborate notes on dates, times and places Chauhan visited and also took photocopies of the hotel registers where he booked rooms under false names. Hotel receptionists were handsomely bribed to accept bookings without the mandatory identity and address proofs. Chauhan cunningly stayed away from Five Star hotels and preferred to frequent one’s on the city’s outskirts. There is no dearth of such ‘resorts’ all along Pune-Mumbai highway, Pune-Solapur road and even the road to Shirdi, the famous Saibaba town. Most of them have well-appointed rooms, luxurious diners and bars. Money has a way of making things easier and Chauhan used its potential to the hilt. However, the proof Dinesh had gathered so far was circumstantial. Any defence lawyer worth the name could blast that flimsy evidence to smithereens in no time. What Dinesh needed was irrefutable, photographic evidence. 

Then, a week ago, Mrs. Sumitra Chauhan (‘Just Sumitra, please’ !) had informed Dinesh of the conversation she had overheard when Subhash was in the loo. She had woken up around 2.30 a.m. that morning to have a glass of water. Getting up to hydrate herself had become a necessity whenever they had the air-conditioning switched on. She noticed his absence and saw the bathroom light marking a bright line at the floor level.  

She had walked past the bathroom and had heard his muffled voice. All she could remember was the mention of Alurkar Resort – “ as last month..” She had to risk being caught eavesdropping because it was necessary to press her ear to the door and concentrate. Had he popped out and stumbled upon her – the elaborate investigation for which she was paying steep charges would have gone waste. As it is, she had already paid Rs. 75K in fees and a further Rs. 25K in expenses. The balance Rs. 75K was to be paid on getting positive proof and photographic / audio taped evidence. Sumitra admired the detective’s lean frame and rugged good looks. Was he married ? ...she wondered unaware of course, of his advanced age.         

Dinesh consulted his notes and sure enough, there was a mention of having tailed Chauhan’s car on the Bengaluru highway about a month ago, just after he was retained by Mrs. Sumitra Chauhan to investigate her husband’s movements ‘and activities,’ and had commenced preparing the dossier on him. He had not followed Chauhan all the way, as he had been saddled with a ‘service car’ given by the authorised service station to tide over a longish time frame they anticipated for his vehicle – a Hyundai ‘Jazz’ - to be back on the road. The service car was barely reaching him from point A to point B in the city with some difficulty. He did not trust its road worthiness on the highway where it may be required to speed up to keep Chauhan’s car in view.

Later that day Sumitra dropped in at his office and wanted to know how Dinesh was planning to use the information she had obtained.

“I am not going to follow Subhash,” he said, to her utter disappointment.

“Whaddyamean?” she almost screamed. “I have made it so easy for you to finally get your Goddam pictures, and you say THIS !”

“No, Sumitra, I plan to go there a day before to prepare the ground,” explained Dinesh. He looked at her hard, and said, “You must tell me immediately as Subhash lets his exact tour plan known to you.”

“What if he gives me just a day’s notice ?” wailed Sumitra.

“Hmmm,” Dinesh had given it a thought and said, “You would have to keep planning for some visit or outing a couple of days ahead, and tell him about these imaginary engagements and appointments.”

“And how’s that going to help ?” 

“C’mon, Sumitra” Dinesh was, by now acutely aware of her dim wit. “Whenever your programme is clashing with his tryst, if that is what it is – he will HAVE to tell you of his travel plans.”

“But,” Sumitra pressed on, “What if he has not lined up anything in the next few days, and I throw some ‘imaginary’ programme or event at him?” Sumitra seemed happy at her own smart thinking. “I will have to make actual plans for almost all the days now onwards !” Obviously, Sumitra did not much relish the thought. Her own clandestine activities were likely to be disturbed.

“So deal with it.” Dinesh retorted a bit crossly. 

Mrs. Sumitra Chauhan was in her mid-thirties and had that sultry attractiveness which earned her admiring glances and even wolf whistles whenever she stepped out of Malls or theatres. It was with great effort that she had retained youthful good looks and the size zero figure. Subhash was a good ten years older to her. They were poles apart when compared on the fitness and appearance scales. He matched her fair, slim and curvaceous body with a dark, misshapen and unattractive one. Gold chains, rings on all his fat fingers and the trademark snow white ‘Safari,’ stood him out starkly in contrast. “It’s his money they fall for!” Mrs. Chauhan would utter disgustedly whenever she would visit Dinesh’s office to get updates on the progress of his investigations.

Sumitra however agreed eventually with Dinesh and promised to get the information required.

“OK ... I will try to do that.” She said, quickly adding an unnecessary emphasis, “Dinesh, I think it’s now time for you to give me some tangible proof of his affairs.” Looking him squarely in his eyes she purred,

“There are other things in life, which this delay is holding up, you know ? ”

The smirk and a quick flick of her tongue across her painted lips left no doubt in Dinesh’s mind of her own tendency to cheat Subhash behind his back. He said,

“I hope to pin him this time.” He stood up and held the middle door open for her to step out. “OK then, bye Dinesh !” she straightened her pallu and stood up to leave.

“All the best !” she brushed past him and was soon gone.

Sumitra called Dinesh on his cell number on Wednesday, that week and told him, “Subhash is planning to visit Belagavi this Saturday.” “He has given me a cock-and-bull story of a large order for wedding jewellery, which he wants to clinch.” She continued, “I know, many times he does go out for genuine business deals, but this time, its pucca he has his sweetheart meeting him there.”

Later...

Dinesh looked up the road route from Kolhapur to Alurkar Resort in Google Maps. He also checked up on the management in the ‘contact us’ link on their web-site. Next, he called up the Office of the Circle Police Inspector, Chikodi – under whose jurisdiction the resort would fall, and introduced himself. His popularity in the force was so widespread, the Inspector in charge of the station Mr. Shankar Jadhav immediately responded with awe and respect.

Dinesh told him about his business in Alurkar Resort, in the briefest need-to-know detail and sought his help. Inspector Jadhav was feeling on top of the world, with Dinesh Singh...THE Dinesh Singh – seeking HIS help! He promised to get the desired action set in motion.  

Early morning next day, Dinesh took the Neeta (Volvo) bus to Kolhapur. Having reached there at around 2.00 p.m. and having had his fill of the Kolhapuri ‘Tambda Rassa’ and ‘Pandhra Rassa,’ with the incomparable mutton curry and bhakri at Pearl Hotel, he engaged a local taxi for the resort. It was a distance of about 45 kilometres and the journey gave him an opportunity to catch the proverbial forty winks. Soon the taxi pulled up at the entrance of the resort and he paid the fare and walked over to the Reception desk with his overnighter.

Inspector Jadhav had done his job quite well. The clerk at the counter was expecting Dinesh. Dinesh tried to put him at ease and casually asked him for the booking register which was handed over to him without demur. He was not expecting to see any booking the next day in the name of Subhash Chandra Chauhan – as obviously, someone who has taken elaborate precautions to cover his tracks would not make a booking in his own name. He was in for a shock. Because, there it was, staring at him in the names column: Mr. Subhash Chandra Chauhan ! How can this fellow be so careless wondered Dinesh – and then, in an instant, he saw through the gambit. Of course he was here. Of course the meeting with the potential customer interested in buying wedding jewellery, was here too. Booking himself under a false name would, in fact, implicate him more surely!!

Unhurriedly, he booked a cottage for himself first and took the key. This was mid-week and there was no rush. He asked for the key to Chauhan’s cottage too. The clerk appeared to hesitate – but only for a second. He handed over the duplicate key for Cottage no. 12 and busied himself with some other job. On the layout plan of the resort which was placed under the glass on the Reception counter, he noticed that his cottage, No. 24, was diagonally opposite to cottage No. 12. That would help in case the vigil became too long and tiring. Looking out from the large French window of the Reception lobby, he could see the cottages strung out in a row on the left hand side. On the right hand was the double storied Motel-like building obviously having rooms for budget travellers. He also noticed that the cottages were well spaced out on either side and the row opposite – where No. 24 was indicated – was also quite a good distance away. Elaborate landscaping and tree plantation in the spaces between cottages and the large expanse in between, added to the overall pleasant feel.

Before leaving the counter, Dinesh pulled the booking register once again to himself and scanned it for a single woman booked in the resort. There were none. Dinesh knew this was not going to be as simple as that. Chauhan would have booked her in another nearby hotel or resort and the rendezvous would be at an unpredictable place. ‘Smart guy’, thought Dinesh with some anxiety. Not knowing the place where they planned to meet was going to make his job difficult.  He was just about to turn and leave for cottage number 12, when his eyes caught sight of another register on the second shelf of the smaller arm of the counter – which had an ‘L’ shape. He asked for that. The clerk promptly placed it on the counter top in front of Dinesh. There was no hesitancy or resentment in his demeanour.

Dinesh asked him,

“Why do you maintain two registers ?”

“Sir, this other one is for single rooms in our main building. The one you saw earlier is for bookings made by customers for our cottages.” Replied the clerk. 

“Oh, of course !” said Dinesh and started scanning the other register for names of single women.

There was a booking done in the name of Ms. Radha Shetty. The contact cell number recorded in the relevant column was the same as was stated against Chauhan’s name in the other register. Now, THAT was a silly mistake ! Dinesh took photographs of all the relevant particulars on his cell phone. There was nobody else in the lobby at the time to make him use discreet methods for covering up this blatant violation of customer’s privacy. Thanking the clerk once again Dinesh made his way towards cottage no. 12 pulling the overnighter on its wheels with him.

Carefully Dinesh opened Chauhan’s cottage door and stepped inside. The layout of the cottage interior was predictable. Immediately after the entrance there was a sitting room carpeted and tastefully decorated. The windows and doors were curtained with colour coordinated tapestry well matched with the Sofa covers and the carpet. The door opposite to the entrance led to the ensuite bed room which was fairly large. The thick carpet spread wall to wall gave the room a certain fullness. There was the customary baggage shelf, the mini fridge and the writing desk and chair. There were windows on three sides. The rear wall had no opening. 

Dinesh opened his overnighter and commenced placing audio and audio visual recording devices at places which would capture any movement or sound anywhere in the cottage. The miniscule cameras were equipped with latest image recording capability. The audio equipment also had sensitive mikes capable of recording even a whisper. These instruments and gadgets were placed such, so as not to be noticed even by trained eyes. It was unlikely that Chauhan would carry, or even be aware of sophisticated devices available in the market capable of detecting spy cameras and recording equipment. The chance had to be taken. Dinesh tested the efficacy of each individual camera and voice recorders methodically. Having satisfied himself thoroughly – he returned to the counter.

Inspector Jadhav had arrived in the meantime, no doubt after being informed about his own arrival an hour or so ago, by the reception counter-clerk. Dinesh took him aside and explained the need for utmost secrecy about his interest in this particular customer. Jadhav assured him repeatedly that the clerk would not open his mouth come what may, now or ever after.  

He slept thereafter like a log till 10 p.m. in the night. According to the bookings he had seen, these love-birds were likely to arrive only the next day morning at about 8 a.m. He had ample time to have his dinner and take a long walk. He felt gloomy and reflected on the futility of all that he was doing for a living. He was helping a woman nail her adulterous husband for an out of court settlement (amounting to blackmail, technically) who herself happened to be as unscrupulous and licentious as her husband. For a moment he reflected on the possibility of Subhash Chauhan having the same grouse against his wife and of having retained another private investigator to unearth her amorous flings ! That would be hilarious indeed. He was intrigued with that thought and continued projecting the thread to outlandish situations. He imagined, with a good measure of credibility in the scenario, that Mr. Chauhan too struts into his office seeking precisely the same evidence Sumitra wants against him !       

He was saddened by the way permissiveness and promiscuity was spreading in the society. The institution of marriage was losing its charm at an alarming rate and youngsters were openly disdainful of restraint and celibacy prior to wedlock. The impermanence of marriage and the shallowness of moral values had begun to erode the bedrock of this, once-upon-a-time ‘sacred’ alliance. Divorces were becoming ordinary, routine events – which hardly got a second mention in social interactions. His guilt stemmed from the realisation that in a way, he was also contributing to this decay. By facilitating break-ups, he was becoming a part of the corrosive influence demolishing this timeless institution.         

He recalled the conversation he had had with Sumitra earlier. As always, Dinesh had tried to dissuade her from the intended misadventure, though he knew the consequences it would have on his own revenues. He asked her pointedly,

          “Sumitra, what is the real reason you want the marriage to end ?”

“Eh ?” she was flummoxed by the question, “Because he CHEATS, for God’s sake !” she almost screamed.

“And ?” he continued, adding viciously, “is that really the only reason ?”

“But of course !” Sumitra was getting visibly annoyed by this line of questioning. “Is that not enough ?”

“Certainly” agreed Dinesh. “But what kind of a person is he ?” Getting up from his chair, Dinesh ambled over to the coffee maker, fished out two Styrofoam cups and adding the sachets of Bru instant coffee and two heaped spoonfuls of sugar to the water, switched the machine on.

He continued slowly turning to face her, “Have you tried to talk it out with him ?”

“No !” she exclaimed. Then, suddenly as if having understood the implication of his questions, she softened and added, “You see, he is a very talented man. He has built up the business empire entirely on his own and he treats me very nicely. “But,” she paused momentarily, ”we hardly have any sex life.” Saying this she stiffened and added, “he seems disinterested in what I would consider a healthy romp in the bed.” Almost to tears now, she continued with the resigned air of a criminal caught red handed, “I am in a relationship with a college friend and it is not on the rebound that I chose to do so.”

Dinesh took the opportunity to wedge in her crumbling defence and asked, “So a heart to heart talk might possibly bring it back on to an even keel ?”

“No.. never !” she exclaimed, adding “we HAVE talked about separation since he clearly does not love me. He is not willing to grant me the divorce. In fact, he has categorically denied even to talk it out.” Sumitra was speaking now as if in a trance, “I think he knows something about my affair and yet he clings to this marriage as if his life depends on it !”     

Holding the coffee cup he had handed over to her, she stared at the blank wall and blurted, “Dinesh, how can he do this to me ? He is interested… NO, he is in love with another woman, knows probably that I am involved with another man and yet he desperately wants our marriage to survive !” 

“OK.” Dinesh knew he had pried too deep already, but decided to test his luck further and said, “One last question Sumitra, a very personal one. You are free to tell me off.” Without a pause which would give her the chance to stop him, he asked, “How’s your love life ?”

“There is none. Didn’t I already say so ? Looking him straight in the eyes, she added, “Can’t you see ? He loves someone else deeply and feels guilty of having spoilt my life. He could have resisted the marriage ‘arranged’ by his parents and my aunt. He should have had the spine to withstand pressure from his family. Now I am within my rights to seek a divorce and claim whatever legally he owes to me. I am told by my lawyer that I am entitled to half his property. I will not let him spoil my life.” 

“Right then” Dinesh got up and taking her empty cup and his own, he walked over to the sink. “You see; I take up divorce cases with extreme reluctance. I want my conscience to be clear of the nagging guilt which comes with actively aiding a break-up. But if what you say is right, I have no qualms in taking up your assignment.”

Dinesh would have preferred to do some real investigative work solving murders or tracing missing persons. But as far as the fiscal sensibility in undertaking such contracts goes, the money in this game was quick to come, had no market determined limitation and caused no significant disruption in his own life.

Late that night at the resort, while returning from his aimless walk, he scanned the area around cottage number 12. There was sufficient moonlight to help him take in the basic layout of the front and rear grounds, which offered an unhindered view of this cottage from a distance of about a hundred yards. Luckily, there was a pergola of sorts in the lawns in front, where one could sit on a bench and keep an eye on the cottage door almost unobserved. He made a mental note of this as well as of a fountainhead just behind the cottage, which had benches around its circumference and where a person reading a newspaper would not look suspicious or incongruent. His own Cottage had front windows which offered a clear view – though about 100 yards away – of the ‘lover’s nest.’ 

It was 12.45 midnight when he finally returned to his cottage.  

Dinesh slept soundly till 6.30 in the morning, called for bed tea and exactly half an hour later, was ready in the casual attire he had selected to create the impression of a man on holiday. He slung a Canon DSLR bag onto his shoulder – which actually contained a receiver with headphones, and miniature binoculars and a few other knick-knacks required for surveillance jobs. At eight sharp – he was sitting on the sofa placed in the lobby from where he could see the reception counter and the entrance gate clearly. He did not have to wait too long. At 9.10 a.m. a taxi pulled up at the porch and Subhash C Chauhan got down. Dinesh had seen many mug shots and full length ‘latest’ snaps of this person shown to him by Sumitra. There was no mistake identifying him. His manner was furtive, as if apprehending some surprise intrusion some known face accosting him unawares. Any casual observer would however interpret his shifty eyes and sweaty eyebrows as typical of a harassed traveller. Chauhan noticed Dinesh in the quick sweep of his eye but appeared to dismiss him as just another tourist.       

He walked heavily to the counter, kept his air-bag on the floor and completed the check-in formalities. His PAN card and Driving Licence were duly Xeroxed by the receptionist and he signed the register.

Taking the key for cottage number 12 – he walked towards the direction marked by an arrow saying “Cottages 1-20” with the bellhop in tow. Dinesh did not move. After about an hour or so, the room service guy in uniform walked towards the same side with a tray balanced on his left palm piled high with a large order enough to feed at least 4 adults. The voracious appetite of this giant of a man was well accounted for, on his tall frame. Dinesh ambled over to the pergola in front of No 12 and took out his binoculars. He was well hidden inside by indoor plants and creepers which all but cut off the early morning light effectively. His patience paid off after three hours when this lady – obviously ‘Radha Shetty’ or whatever the true name – walked towards the cottage. In his eagerness to tail Chauhan, Dinesh had missed out on her arrival. There was of course no way that he could have identified her – apart from a surmise which circumstantially indicated her as the ‘other woman.’

She was a stunner. Tall, at about five feet six inches she could outshine Sumitra hands down in sheer grace. Despite being exceptionally tall she wore stiletto heels, which gave her an attractive sway when she walked. She was clad in jeans and a white buttoned down shirt. Her complexion in the bright afternoon Sun, seemed fair. Her hair looked freshly shampooed and glistened in the Sunlight reflected from the white-washed walls of the cottages and were bundled up high on her crown with fasteners bursting up in a fountain. She carried a handbag slung over her lithe shoulders and which she clasped loosely with her hand. A perfect picture of the sultry seductress, thought Dinesh as he focused his binoculars to catch a glimpse of her face. As she approached Chauhan’s cottage, Dinesh heard someone call out ‘Radha !’ and surprised, he turned his binocs back towards the reception area in a sweeping trajectory. He noticed the object of his attention – obviously Radha now – stop her stride and turn around. The man jogging hurriedly towards her called out once again, without appearing to yell and yet with a distinct urgency to it. That confirms her id, concluded Dinesh wryly. But, he wondered, who the hell is THAT ?

His trained police brain started whirring fast. Could this duo be the business clients Chauhan wanted to meet ? Was it all a waste of time after all ? Slightly disappointed now, he returned his gaze to Radha without the binoculars trained on her. She was smiling at the new comer who caught up with her and shook hands. They talked for a while and together resumed their walk onwards. Reaching cottage No. 12 they knocked discreetly. The door opened quickly just wide enough to let them in.

He would have continued to wait and watch the entrance to the cottage No. 12 but for an unexpected disturbance in his vigil. A group of cackling maintenance staff was approaching the pergola. He would have to shift base. Quickly and as inconspicuously as possible, he got up and put the headphone back in his camera bag. Sauntering around the gardens he had to lose sight of the cottage for about five minutes. But since this surveillance appeared to have lost its purpose, a brief disconnect with his subject was not of any significant consequence. A Goddam business meet after all that planning and pains to ‘prepare the site.’      

Dinesh knew his recording and filming gadgets would do the needful for whatever it was worth. He walked over to the rear side of the cottage towards the fountainhead and sat on a bench in the shade of a rain tree and put on the headphones again. To any observer, he could well be a tourist listening to music. He was not gazing at any cottage or being intrusive in any way. He listened into the headphones for almost 40 minutes with rapt attention. I was almost 6.30 in the evening when he got up and decided to go to his cottage. He wanted to look for an opportunity when he would be able to re-enter Chauhan’s cottage and retrieve his equipment. At around 8 p.m. he got it. The three of them came out of the cottage and walked towards the diner. Dinesh’s brow furrowed deep as he watched them go out of sight. Pushing aside the contemplative stasis he made a quick dash to Chauhan’s cottage, and let himself in with the duplicate key he had taken from the reception clerk. Silently and efficiently he collected all bugs and snooping gadgetry planted earlier and left the cottage under cover of the darkness.

Later, with a worried look on his face, he made for the dining area. He was visibly disturbed. Grim, tensed up and lost in deep thought, he finally arrived at a decision just as he entered the diner. Seated at the table next to the entrance he saw the trio having idli-sambar and chutney with gusto. Walking past their table, Dinesh heard ‘environmental degradation’ and some such inane stuff clearly the subject being discussed animatedly. The diner was otherwise almost empty. A few customers at the rear end was all that he could see. He ordered his ‘Aloo Paratha’ and curds and observed the three. His attention was focused on the person who had called out Radha in the afternoon.

He was of that indeterminate age which could be 30 or 40, clean shaven and with a full mop of close cropped hair he had a boyish look and a quick smile. Having seen Radha walk with him earlier, he could work out his height and fixed it at around 6 ft. His attire was simple – trousers and pin-striped shirt with long sleeves and formal squeaky clean black shoes. There was not an inch of extra flab even around his waist. He appeared to be steering the discussion as the other two kept looking at him while he spoke, gesticulating with jabbing thrusts of the fork he held in his right hand. The overall mood at the table was relaxed.        

Later that evening he saw Radha Shetty leave the resort in a call taxi. Dinesh was sitting at his usual post in the reception area, when she checked out. Strolling around the garden Dinesh caught sight of the visitor at the fountain behind Chauhan’s cottage. He was speaking on his cell phone and paced around as people invariably do, trying to optimise the signal or not let it fade out. After a while he checked the time on his wrist watch, bid goodbye to the person he was talking to and walked towards the reception. Dinesh knew he could not possibly find any excuse to strike a conversation with him. Moreover, he seemed in a hurry to leave. He did not sign off in the register, which clearly meant that he was lodged in another resort nearby or was a local from Belagavi. He soon drove out in a Tata Indica.

It was time to accost Chauhan and talk to him. It was going to be difficult but Dinesh just had to get some answers. Things had not gone the way he had imagined. He walked over to Chauhan’s cottage and knocked firmly on the door. A surprised Chauhan peeped out from the barely open door and said “Yes ?”

“We need to talk” said Dinesh with a hint of authoritative sternness in his voice. “I am Dinesh Singh – a well wisher.”

Chauhan dithered for a moment but weighing his options and not wanting to create a scene perhaps, agreed to let Dinesh in.

They talked for more than an hour.

Coming out, Dinesh walked past cottages 11 and 10 – when he heard that sound. The sound his ears had become accustomed to. He paused in his stride, reflected for moment and then continued on his way to the reception counter.

He would have to bid adieu to Inspector Jadhav. He had been a great help…and would perhaps be of help in future too.  

Later in the Bus which he boarded in Belagavi, Dinesh considered afresh all that had happened, all that was videotaped and everything that had been discussed with Chauhan.

He could not sleep…………    

       

Part Two

With the assignment concluded at Belgaum, Dinesh was willing to overlook the tiredness but was dreading the appointment he had fixed with his client. He paced up and down in the inner office trying to plan how he would say whatever he wanted to tell Sumitra.

He finally decided on the brute force method.

Sumitra stormed into his office at 11.30 and excitedly asked, “What is the good news Dinesh ? Do you have the proof now ?” Dinesh looked at her and motioned to the chair across his table. Sumitra was in no mood to sit and asked impatiently, “Cut the crap Dinesh – just give me the photographs and the video clips !” Sensing something amiss, she sat down and said, “I have credited your account with the balance Rs. 75 K so don’t act coy.”

Dinesh, took out the cheque from his pocket made out in the name of Mrs. Sumitra Chauhan for Rs. 1.75 lacs. Handing it over to her he said, “Sorry, Sumitra, I am returning all your money and withdrawing from the contract.”

Sumitra jumped up trying to grab his collar but he swiftly stepped back just enough to avoid her clawing hands. Hurling choicest obscenities at him, she yelled, “What do you mean you bastard ?” Adding as an afterthought, “Oh, I see, so now you would blackmail him for a larger rip-off, no ?”

“I will take you to the court,” she threatened. Adding with a malicious glint in her eyes, “You will pay for this, you scum !”

Dinesh quietly sat down, pulled a copy of the contract from his drawer and turned a few pages to point out a clause in it. He had built into all his contracts, an escape route which enabled him to back off from the investigation entrusted to him subject to refund of all contractual receipts. “Don’t get excited, Sumitra, just listen to me.” He said after she had read the clause.

“So, tell me !” 

“Sumitra,” began Dinesh in a resigned voice. “Have you seen today’s newspaper?” He knew she would not have. He had imagined some family friend or acquaintance to have spotted the news item on one of the inner pages – an inconspicuous mention – and called up Sumitra to break the news to her. Evidently, nobody had noticed the news : ‘Businessman found dead in Resort’

“No” she said dismissively.

“Subhash Chauhan is dead, Sumitra” he said. The photographic evidence and your plan for forcing an out of court settlement is not required anymore.”

Sumitra crashed back onto her chair with a wide-eyed disbelief on her face.

“Whaaatt ?” She managed to blurt, “Are you nuts ?”

“Let me tell you the details Sumitra. It was not an accident or a murder. He pulled the trigger on himself.”

“But why would he do that ?” Sumitra was quick to bounce back to her composed and calculative self. “And what do you mean by out of court settlement not being ‘required’ ?” she demanded. You have no idea of the number of close relatives who would stake a claim on his wealth.”

Dinesh looked at her with a steady gaze. Unnerved, she immediately assumed the pathetic visage of a bereaved widow and made a complete hash of it. Pouting, she asked Dinesh, “Why do you expect me to feel sorry about this ?”

“How can you be so cold hearted, Sumitra ?”

“But why not ? He never loved me ! Did I not tell you of our non-existent sex life ?”

“He did love you – in his own very unique way, Sumitra.” Dinesh said. He was not sentimental and had learned to keep his emotions under check during his police days. But he found it difficult to keep the lump forming in his throat, his voice became thick and his red rimmed eyes were moistened.

“Can you please tell me all about it ?”

“I will do that Sumitra. Just a few questions before that.”

“Yes ?”

“Do you know a lady called Radha Shetty ?”

“Radha ? I know her very well !” Her wide eyed expression conveyed what she had in mind. “Was Subhash having an affair with HER ?” 

“No need to jump at conclusions, Sumitra !”

“She is his accountant. A CA with a flourishing practice of her own. She is happily married, for God’s sake !” Sumitra reluctantly added, “She is a looker indeed. A graceful woman with beauty AND brains !” 

“Whoa ! Listen..!!” Dinesh began saying, but was interrupted again.

“Does Venkat know about it ? Was it the reason for Subhash to kill himself ??”

“Venkat ?”

“Radha’s husband !” Sumitra exclaimed. Her open palm hands made a gesture which betrayed her impatience at his ignorance.

“I mean, who does not know Venkat ?”

“I don’t”

“Well, he is an industrialist – owner of ABC Frozen Foods.” She added, “And he loves Radha as passionately as the legendary Majnu !” There was no stopping Sumitra now. Her page 3 spirit was kindled. “Oh my God, Subhash must have messed with his wife and Venkat would have come after him… God knows he is possessive and jealous... he also has the muscle power to settle scores the rough way… why did Subhash have to do this?” continued her wail.

“Are you going to listen to me ?” Sumitra’s diatribe died down as suddenly as it had started. The rough ‘cop’ edge in his voice silenced her – for the time being at least. “Second question,” Dinesh pushed his advantage,

“Do you know someone by the name of ‘Vishnu Pathak’ ?”  

“No”

“Well, listen carefully and please do not interrupt.” Said Dinesh.

“Okke”

Dinesh settled in his large executive chair a bit more comfortably and began telling Sumitra what his investigation had revealed.

“First of all, be thankful to Subhash for having willed his entire property to you alone.” He let that sink in. Then, as soon as Sumitra’s attention reverted to him from the fantasies her shallow brain conjured up in an instant of knowing about the fortune she had landed into, he took out a remote and waved it in the direction of a music system mounted on the wall opposite. “Listen now to our conversation.” He advised with a hint of warning of the ‘or else’ sort implied in the stern tone.

Part Three

After the barely audible hiss of static emanating from the wall mounted ‘Bose’ speakers, the clear sound of knocking on the door was followed by Chauhan’s voice : ‘Yes ?’ and then his own, ‘We need to talk…I am Dinesh Singh – a well-wisher.’

“What’s this about” asked Chauhan with a slight tremble in his voice. “Who are you ?”

“I told you, my name is Dinesh Singh and your wife, Sumitra has retained me to put you under surveillance because she suspects infidelity.”

“Oh God !” again that fear in his voice. “And what have you collected as evidence Mr. Singh ?” He sounded completely distressed now.

“Call me just ‘Dinesh’ please.” He further entreated Subhash to shed all anxiety as he had already decided to destroy all evidence – audio and video – which his gadgets had recorded. “Relax, Subhash” his voice continued, “I have reason to believe that you are contemplating an extreme step. Please do not make any hasty decision. Things are not as bad as they seem.” 

“It’s easy for you to say that, Dinesh.” Said Chauhan. “But first tell me, why is Sumitra hell bent on getting the divorce ? I have given her complete freedom to live the life she wants. I know of her affair with that college friend of hers. I have never accused her of infidelity. She keeps asking for a divorce and half of my property.” Chauhan seemed genuinely perturbed by the unreasonableness of his wife.

“Subhash, she complains of neglect – emotional and physical. Consider her point of view, is permissiveness and promiscuity a trade-off for tolerating blatant unfaithfulness ?

“I don’t know what you have discovered about me, Dinesh” said Chauhan. “But my…”

“I know.” Dinesh wedged in. “I am only trying to explain Sumitra’s predicament. She feels slighted by your love for another woman. Her self-esteem has taken a hit. Is that difficult to understand, brother ?”

“But… !!”

“Yes. I speak on her behalf – as she would view this ‘extra-marital’ fling you are having.” Before Chauhan could say anything, Dinesh asked, “So, who was that person with Radha ?”  

“His name is Vishnu Pathak. He owns an Automobile ancillary unit manufacturing plastic components for an Auto major in Pune.” Chauhan’s voice cracked as he continued.

“Apparently, his presence is cosmetic in these secret trysts.” Said Dinesh, “a sham to create legitimacy for your love-life.”

“No Dinesh….” Began Chauhan, but was again cut short by Dinesh, who added, “I am talking only of the impression an observer would have.”  

Chauhan’s agitated voice boomed, “Listen to me Dinesh, please !” and added, “We love each other.”

“I know.” Said Dinesh.

Sumitra let out a sharp yelp, as she almost toppled her chair by an involuntary jerk of her feet. She was about to start her rant once again but was dissuaded by Dinesh with a warning shake of his finger.

The voices from the speakers continued..

“So you mean that Radha was just a prop ? And why was she inside the cottage with the two of you ? Although, my own recordings and video clips do not have her images or even her voice after the initial small talk.” Dinesh asked to confirm his doubt, “Did Radha leave the cottage immediately ?”

“yes…her job was to make the meeting look like a regular business meeting. She has been helping me out in this, since the beginning.” Admitted Chauhan.

Dinesh paused the recording and turned to face Sumitra. “I had to hurriedly leave the place from where I was keeping an eye on his cottage. In the five minutes which it took me to skirt the cottage and take up position on the rear side – Radha seems to have left unobserved.” Saying this, Dinesh was about to resume the player when Sumitra interjected.

“Can we skip this stuff please ? I am feeling disgusted.”

“You don’t want to know what happened after this ?” he asked.

“I do… but listening to his voice, knowing he is no more, is creepy.” She looked at him squarely and said, “I’d rather you just told me the sum and substance of whatever transpired between you.”

“OK then” said Dinesh and began narrating the gist of his conversation with Chauhan. He told Sumitra of the deep sense of guilt Subhash harboured for having spoilt her life. He was not willing to let go of her as his ‘married’ status gave him respectability and acceptance in society. He was concerned about his ‘aberrant’ orientation getting out in the open and the ridicule that would be heaped upon him and even criminal charges likely to be levelled against him.  

He told Dinesh that the two of them – Vishnu and Chauhan himself – had discussed the only alternative which offered a permanent solution to their dilemma of living a lie. They had entered into a suicide pact. Once their secret lives were exposed by any chance – they would end their miserable existence.

Sumitra asked the obvious question, “What has Vishnu done now ?”

Dinesh told her of his last meeting with inspector Jadhav in Chikodi. He had heard the gun shot and knew Subhash was dead. Before the news spread all over, he warned Jadhav about the imminent suicide in terms of their pact. Jadhav had acted with speed and taken Vishnu in protective custody.

He was alive.

“You could have saved Subhash !” she blurted. “What prevented you from     preempting this ?” she said with an accusing look. Dinesh had anticipated this question. He knew she was right. Even after destroying all audio-video evidence of their affair which he had inadvertently recorded in Chauhan’s presence, and repeatedly reassuring him of keeping everything under the tightest wraps, he could sense the acutely depressed state of his mind. Dinesh knew the law of the land well enough to realise that for this ‘crime’ there was no hope.

To Sumitra he said, “It was a conscious decision Sumitra. Our society still harbours bigots and moral policemen and self-appointed vigilante groups who would make a living hell for these lovers. I am in fact sorry for Vishnu – but as things stand, I had no alternative but to keep the police informed of their suicide pact particularly since one of them had already ended his life.”  

Sumitra pushed the cheque for Rs. 1.75 lac lying on the table back to Dinesh and got up unsteadily.

“If only he had told me…” she sobbed.

Sanjeev Bhakay