A PERFECTLY BALANCED REACTION (PART 1/4)

“Professor, you must understand. It is important for me to know the truth”, she said. Mrs mani has been coming to my home ever since the court delivered the verdict in my favor. She believed that the court may have delivered justice but the truth was still hidden in the shadows.

She has been coming to my home for the last 8 months with the same question. What exactly happened professor? And I was giving her the same answer that I gave in the court. It has the same chain of events and the same narrative. She listens to it intently and then walks away without cross-questioning me, saying maybe some other time we may shed light on the truth. There is no threat in her voice. She was calm as the cool breeze of summer. She could have used the political power that she inherited after her husband’s death but she didn’t. I wanted to wear her patience thin and she had the same in her mind for me.

That day, as usual, when I came back home from a meeting with an old friend, I saw Mrs. Mani standing outside my gate. 50+ year old lady, turned on her heels to see me coming. She always wore a simple colored sari. That day she had a brown colored one. Earlier she had a thick golden marriage necklace called mangalsutra around her neck which was replaced by a thin golden chain. Her lavish golden bangles were replaced by glass bangles. She had a whitish complexion compared to the dark black one her husband had. Typical South Indian complexion is usually dark in this part of the world, it was normal.

She looked at her watch and said, “I was expecting you earlier. Hope you didn’t come late in hopes of avoiding me.”

I thought of answering her as you can’t blame me for trying but I didn’t. I simply invited her in.

“your wheelchair is making more noise than usual, hope everything is alright with it.” She inquired earnestly.

I admitted that since yesterday one of the wheels’ axles has been misaligned hence the noise. I also noticed how attentive she has been all these days.

I was in a wheelchair for most of my life. Ever since I was 16 years old, I was stuck with a wheelchair. When I was going for my engineering competitive exam, I was hit by a truck which brought this wheelchair into my life. Since I couldn’t work as an engineer, so I decided to be a professor who helped others get into engineering.

My disability made it increasingly difficult to find a life partner and after my parent’s death, I was left to my fate by my relatives. I was alone to the truest of the senses. After a while juggling between college responsibilities and cooking became too difficult so I hired a maid. Sushila. Sushila was a godsend for me. She took care of me as if I was her own brother. Even though she was 1 year older than me she fondly referred to me as dada. I hired her only for cooking, it was her perfection for cleanliness that made my house sparkle for the first time after my mother’s death. Whenever I would discuss raising her pay, she would refuse but request me to mentor her only son. Her son was struggling in his 12th exam. I tutored him till his mother worked at my house. She purposely ensured that she would find more work at my house so her son got more time with me. Once I realized that, I not only increased her pay but her son became my first student of the tuition. Word spread like fire in Sushila’s slum and for anyone who wanted career advice, students, and families started pouring in for discussion. They started looking at me as a man with a solution to their every problem. Those evenings for me were an opportunity to have a human connection in my lonely life as opposed to burying myself in reading newspapers or books.

As my health degraded, it became increasingly difficult for me to maneuver in the college so I left my prestigious job as a professor at the college and started private tuition classes. What started with 1 boy, became 15 and tuitions started. But the name stuck with me as a professor. Sushila’s son remained my student till his post-graduation. He got a hefty salaried job in Bangalore. I was so happy for Sushila. She didn’t have to work anymore but she didn’t stop coming to work for my house. Until unfortunately when we had a fallout. I still hope Sushila and her son are doing well in Bangalore.

Professor became my identity rather than my mere means to earn bread and butter. After Sushila’s son, I preferred taking engineering students for graduation and post-graduation. I had a very practical approach to teaching tough subjects such as fluid mechanics, chemical engineering, and engineering mathematics. I had set up a small lab near my home where I was encouraging my students to experiment. It is sheer fun to watch students engage with miniature boilers to learn fluid mechanics, create different types of adhesives using chemical engineering principles, and learn advanced mathematics using aerospace computations. A perfectly balanced- learning and applicability of the knowledge. These methods were highly unorthodox but they showed results. Most of my students started getting through prestigious universities. Their success percolated fame for me. I didn’t have much of desires or expectations in life so I preferred not to make tuition a business but a way of making an impact in students’ lives. I didn’t name my tuition but my students name it after a phase I unknowingly used often while teaching chemistry concepts -“a perfectly balanced” reaction. Since then, my tuition has been called “perfectly balanced” tuition.

Coupled with a disabled body and an unchanged fee structure or count of students, perfectly balanced tuitions soared in popularity and were briefly covered in local news as well.

“I’ll have someone come over to look at your wheelchair,” she said, taking her usual seat on the sofa in my living room. She took a look around at my home’s condition. Cobwebs and dust resided in every possible corner. “will send over a maid as well”

“I would not want to trouble you. You have many important matters to handle for the public representative,” I mentioned, locking my wheelchair opposite her.

“it would not be trouble. I am a public servant. Meant to help you” She poured herself a glass of water from the bottle on the coffee table.

“thank you. I am glad your style of using the power is not the same as your late husband” I said with a half smile.

“now that you mentioned him, can I know what exactly happened on that night?”

“Mrs. Mani, like I said, I was on a stroll when I saw the fire rising from his office. I went there as a curious bystander like many had gathered” I explained with utmost conviction.

“no professor. We all have heard this version. It is important for me to know the truth” she said, leaning back with a calm voice.

“that is the truth. I have no reason to hide anything, Mrs. Mani. Even the police and forensics have conducted a thorough investigation. All pointed out toward the electric short leading to a fire”

“I remember Bhadra mentioning you at our home before he was murdered. Did you not meet him before his office was charred?”

“of course, Mrs. Mani. I told the police about it as well. I have met Bhadra 4 times. 3 times at his office and once he visited me at my home. Such as yourself, he was a political representative. Many folks used to meet him in a day with their problems. Similarly, I met him with mine”

“Which was?”

I felt a bit uncomfortable with her line of questioning. I took a deep breath and looked at a picture frame on the coffee table.

“Trying to locate my daughter!” I said while touching the picture of Reva.

“I am sorry about what happened with Reva. The orphanage has been sealed due to their malpractices. I will ensure nothing like that ever will happen in my state” she said firmly.

I sighed with disappointment before saying, “I am glad that people have elected the right person in power,” I said while putting the picture back on the table.

“you know inspector Shinde reports to me in the new ministry,” she said, for the first time sounding a bit agitated.

“Mr. Shinde is an honest officer as they come. I think you should trust him with reopening the case if you have an iota of a doubt.” I said, without batting an eyelid.

“That would be a terrible waste of public money, professor.” She let out a forced smile.

Before she could ask me further questions, my phone vibrated. There was an alert for my medication. “Apologies Mrs. Mani, you’d have to excuse me as it is time for my medications”

“Professor, you must understand. It is important for me to know the truth”, she said. I heard the familiar statement and without thinking I asked, “You keep asking me for the truth. For the 8 months, we have been having this discussion. I was named as a probable suspect in your husband’s death until it was declared as an accident. I was under house arrest for 3 years the court case destroyed my reputation. Whatever little I was earning from my tuition is gone. Mrs. Mani. Have I not suffered enough?”

“of course you have. And I have no intent to cause you any more trouble professor.” She said while standing up. Folding her hands, she said, “If I have caused any harm to your peace.”

“no, Mrs. Mani. You have not. You have been most helpful in all of your visits. But I never figured out, out of one thing. Out of all the accused individuals, why do you think I know the truth?”

Still standing she said, “When my husband was the MLA (public representative), I used to observe the types of men and women who visited my husband with their problems each Sunday at our home. I used to observe them from the kitchen. After a while, it became a game.” She looked into the distance and continued, “I learned the art of discerning if someone was hiding something. And most of the time, I won.” She smiled looking into my eyes. She started toward the door when she called out a number, asking to send help to my home for wheelchair repair and cleaning.

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To Be Continued …

A PERFECTLY BALANCED REACTION (PART 2/4)