This is a continuation of a story. if you haven’t read Part 1 read it, here
Bhadra Mani was a 6-foot-tall broad-shoulder burly haired dark complexion man. He was a politician who knew how to play the game well. He held power for more than 2 decades in this area. He did whatever was required to be in power, be it bribing people or arm-wrestling them. His lavish bungalow is still one of the most prominent sites in our area. He had many luxury cars lined up in the garden of his bungalow. Every Sunday, there would be a thong of people entering his bungalow for his court, where he heard the public matters and served his judgments. He considered himself to be above the law or rather he thought of himself as the law. He gave food to the poor and organized many entertaining events for the of the folks but he consciously avoided empowering them. He wanted them to be poor so they remained loyal to him. When I started interacting with him, regarding Reva, I understood the dark side of his career. His nexus with the builder’s lobby, and the gangster connections all came to light. He had his office, near to his bungalow which was bigger than my house. There were 4 big rooms in his office. The reception hosted the visitors. Behind it, was his cabin, where he used to sit when he was in his office. Right to his cabin was a bedroom for resting. When I visited his office, I learned one of the many usages of this bedroom was to keep some important individuals happy. All kinds of cardinal pleasures were provided here. He often stayed here for his own gratifications as well. Adjacent to that room was a store room, where important documents were being stored in a file cabinet.
It was this office that was engulfed in fire what was almost 6 years ago, seemed like yesterday. It was a ghastly affair. We all gathered to see the office burning. At first, we thought it was only property on fire but what made it gruesome was when 2 burning bodies ran out of the fire, begging to be saved. No matter what people did, the fire didn’t doze off and they burned to ashes right in front of the watching crowd. I can still taste that flesh-burning smell.
In my eyes, Mrs. Mani as a politician was an angel.
There was a wave of sympathy after his death. The party asked Mrs. Mani to contest the election. Against her will, she stood in the election, hoping that her unfamiliar face would see the dust in the result. But the sympathy wave was strong enough to carry her to her first win. When she won I was battling the court case and investigations as a suspect for her husband’s death. For a couple of years, she did as her party told her to do but eventually, she picked up how to play the game of politics. Rather than pleasing people, she was focused on empowering her constituency with schools, and affordable education for kids. She was pushing me as well to re-start my perfectly balanced tuition. She was willing to fund it as well. I couldn’t consider facing the public after the court trial so I begged her forgiveness when I passed her offer. She ensured that women’s businesses were encouraged and set up small shops and markets for them.
She again hoped that after her first turn was over, she would never get elected again. Her actions were different than her late husband’s. She wanted to be left alone but the better sense of the public prevailed and she got another chance at the office. Now she was part of the state government.
My first meeting with Mrs. Mani was in the court where I was being cross-questioned. I felt awful for her once I learned that she was Bhadra Mani’s wife. She sat patiently, listening in, observing me. She had those piercing eyes that look into your soul. But as much as my memory served me, I don’t think she ever looked sad during the trial.
I had no reason to cross my path with them, Mr. And Mrs. Mani. I had no reason to be named as accused in Bhadra’s death but life rolled the dice in mysterious ways.
Reva happened.
The day I found her is still fresh in my mind as if it was yesterday. As per my regular schedule, I went to open the lab door for my evening batch of tuition. There was a slight rain that day. The lane leading to my tuition room near my house was usually deserted so I had no reason to suspect anything. When I came close to the door, I was alarmed. The door was wide open, ajar. I hurriedly went in to check, if there was a break-in or if I missed closing the door on the way to my home after my morning tuition. Soon enough, it was clear that I did not miss to close the door, it was indeed a break-in. But rather than taking something from the room, they had left something behind. It was a baby wrapped in a towel. A feebly crying baby. I was shocked to see this baby being left behind. I immediately jumped out of my wheelchair to check on the crying baby. I had no idea how to handle this situation. I called Sushila from my mobile and she came in the next 30 mins. But the 30 mins. I spent with her, holding her in my arms, trying my best to calm her down, was enough for me to fall in love with her. I was trying to sing a lullaby which I was failing miserably so I moved on to sing songs from movies. I heard her crying frequency was reducing. I tried to oscillate her like a pendulum in my arms. Something was working. She was occasionally stopping from crying to look at me before resuming. In one of those instances, I saw her beautiful blue eyes, like calmly flowing river water. I couldn’t help but notice how lovely she was. I didn’t even think about how she came to my tuition room, who must have left her there, and what to do with her. I didn’t think about these questions until Sushila arrived and asked them.
Sushila fed the baby with a bottle of lukewarm cow milk she had carried while I started thinking about these questions. Sushila guessed the baby was around 8 months old. I was about to call the police but she asked me to wait. She said, maybe her parents might return, maybe her parents thought that you could take care of the baby for a few days, as you have a good reputation with the poor folks in the slums. More than getting convinced by her answer, I had a burning desire to see those river eyes of the girl again. Even after a few days, no one turned up my door. Thankfully Sushila moved into my home to help me out with the baby. After a troublesome couple of nights, the baby started to calm down. She in fact smiled at me for the first time after 2 days she spent in my room. I canceled a week’s tuition so I can understand what we need to do with the baby. My instinct to give her away reduced and with the help of Sushila, I started enjoying her company. Sushila asked me to name the baby, until she stays with me, what can we call her? I remember my first reaction looking at her eyes – calm flowing water of a river. My mother’s name was Narmada, which is also a river’s name. So I decided to name her – Reva a synonym of Narmada river.
A month passed and the hope of parents returning diminished to 0. Sushila was a great help in this period. She used to say Reva was making me come alive. Sushila instigated me to think of adopting her. I couldn’t fathom why anyone would leave their 8-month-old daughter at my tuition. Here too Sushila had a suggestion. She said, that since I had been helping the poor families in the slum, someone might have trusted me. Under some unfortunate circumstances, a family or unfortunate girl had to give up the baby. Sushila used to say, Reva is a calling from the gods. The gods were trying to put some color in my otherwise boring life. I didn’t argue with her.
Reva stayed with me for about 3 months. Of course, Sushila was playing a major role in helping out with the baby but slowly I started getting the hang of things. How to make the baby milk, how to feed her, how to change the nappy of Reva, I started to manage on my own.
But one day changed my views about everything.
To Be Continued …
A PERFECTLY BALANCED REACTION (PART 3/4)
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