It had been a few months since
Vishwa vanished from Kaaluru. Having known him closely, I did not feel
perturbed. I believed he would turn up within a few days and life would go on,
as though nothing was amiss. However, this time, I was wrong. Days stretched
into weeks, then months. I assumed Vishwa would never come back, perhaps having
found a new haven.
In those initial days, Kaaluru
was abuzz with the news of Vishwa having gone away – yet again. I was at pains
explaining to those who asked – at Ramu’s, over by-2 coffee, where we were
regulars; at Muttaiah’s saloon; at
Chandru’s photo studio on MG Road; to Shastry at the Chamundi Temple; even to
Aslam, the taxi driver as he waited at the railway station, looking for
customers who never came – that I had absolutely no idea. Gradually, people
lost interest in the whereabouts of Vishwa, having their own troubles to take
care of. I would still go to Ramu’s sometimes and order by-2 coffee, hoping
that Vishwa would turn up to drink his share. I gave up after a few days. My
parents were happy that their son now took interest in the banalities of
household work than spending time with that good-for-nothing.
That night, out of the blue,
Vishwa landed at my front door. He being gone for months, his landlord had
rented the house to a family and he needed a place to spend the night. My
parents were kind enough to keep their opinions to themselves and let Vishwa
stay for the night. I rolled out a mattress for him. Having freshened up, he
lay there. I knew it would be long before either of us slept that night.
However, I did not question him, waiting for him to open up.
******************
“You know very well”, Vishwa
began “that I get tired of being the same place for long. Life in Kaaluru
seemed monotonous. The same old faces, the same domestic squabbles. Despite me
being unemployed most of the time, I could always walk into anybody’s house for
lunch or dinner and nobody minded. That is this place’s strength and weakness.
It discourages competition and enterprise. Irrespective of whether you liked me
or not, you would feed me, for you know I will be useful at some point in time,
when you need people to get work done in Mandya or Mysuru. And for long, I took
advantage of it.
“One fine day, I got frustrated
with the life I was leading and decided to try something new. I packed a few
clothes, took some money and boarded the bus to Bengaluru. I had been to
Bengaluru only once. I think you know that story, right? Flour Mill Krishna’s
co-brother wanted a document signed by some minister and Krishna thought I
would be the right person to help him with it. All I knew was a peon in the
minister’s many offices, from Mandya. Because I knew him, I was let right into
the minister’s chambers and Krishna’s co-brother was awed by it. The Minister
was in a good mood that day, I guess. He talked as if he had known me for years
and signed the paper right away. Krishna and his co-brother spread this among
people in Kaaluru. Not that I enjoyed all the attention. However, I was done
with all that now.
“Bengaluru welcomed me with open
arms. I could now get lost in those swarming crowds. I could swim anonymously
in that sea of humanity. Here was one place where I could start afresh. I
booked a room in one of the cheaper hotels and went in search of work. A studio
near the central bus stand caught my attention. Having worked in Chandru’s
studio for some time, I thought I could use my experience there. The owner was
a gentleman. Along with the job, he gave me a room to stay, free of cost.
“Two weeks into the work, I
noticed that most people who came to get their photos clicked were prospective
brides and grooms. I smelt an opportunity here. What if along with clicking
pictures, we started a marriage bureau? The owner was surprised that this
hadn’t struck him for so long. Thus began a new chapter in my life. While the
owner took care of photographs, I used my smooth talk to get details and
requirements of brides and grooms to be.
“We introduced a new clause. If a
marriage was arranged through our bureau, then our studio would be given the
order for photographing the wedding. It increased the business for us while the
families did not have to search separately for photographers. It was a win-win arrangement.
A few successful weddings later, I befriended a couple of purohits as
well as caterers. They became our new partners. Now, we offered nearly
end-to-end solutions for any wedding. This model worked for all of us.
Steadily, my owner’s income grew to an extent that he was able to employ two
people for wedding photography.”
“Then why did you leave that work
to return here?” I cut in. “Don’t tell me you got bored with it so soon”, I
said, sensing that perhaps the story had not yet begun.
“I will tell you" Vishwa said, annoyed at my question. "The first rule
of storytelling is that the storyteller should not be interrupted."
“One fine day, we received this
client, searching for a groom for his daughter. The daughter was pretty good
looking. She had an MA in history. It was a fairly well-to-do family as well.
It wasn’t hard to find a groom for such a girl. Preliminary talks were
successful and an engagement was announced as well.
“Post-engagement, I went to the
groom’s house with the photo album a couple of days later. I sensed that the
atmosphere was not alright. They said they had noticed that the girl’s first
cousin and the girl appeared to be ‘pretty close’. Some in the groom’s family
had taken objection to that. They wanted me to convey this ‘subtly’ to the
bride’s family. Being the middle-man, I had no choice.
“When I subtly broached this
issue while talking to the girl’s father, he appeared to be expecting this.
Apparently, ever since the girl and her first cousin were children, their
families had playfully discussed that those two would be married when they came
of age. The girl and the boy grew up with such feelings as well. When the
parents became aware of the situation, they realised that the joke had gone too
far. They conceded on the condition that the two first ‘settled’ in life before
discussing marriage. As fate would have it, the boy
turned out to be good-for-nothing. The families, in their collective wisdom,
decided that it was not prudent for the girl to be married to him. Despite the
two opposing their decision, the girl’s father took it upon himself to find a
suitor for his daughter, not without the backing of his extended family. The
girl’s father promised me that he would ensure the wedding went on without
hassles. However, he wanted me to talk some sense into the girl. Why is it that
I appear responsible to most people, when I cannot fend for myself?
“I felt awkward to talk to the
girl about this. Neither was I her age, where I could approach as a friend; nor
was I her parents’ age to be a paternal figure. What surprised me was the resolve
with which the girl spoke. She said that perhaps they should not have taken
their parents’ joke that seriously. She loved him deeply. She said she would
support the family entirely until the boy established himself. If she left him
now, just because he was not successful, wouldn’t she be running away from her
responsibility as a lover? What if the groom that her parents – through me –
had found for her was thrown out of job a few months into the wedding? Would
she be allowed to desert him then? The ‘closeness’ she and her cousin had
displayed at the engagement was to try and get the wedding cancelled from the
groom’s side.
“‘Your father has promised that
he would ensure this marriage takes place’ I told her.
‘Neither I, nor the groom nor
will my cousin be happy. This one marriage can spoil the happiness of three
families. Ask my father if he wants that’ she said. ‘Better still. I’ll commit
suicide if my father forces me into the marriage. My cousin will follow. Let me
spare my fiancé the horror’ she quipped matter-of-factly, a few moments later.
“I was not prepared to handle
this challenge. I was supposed to be a marriage-broker; not counsel people.
Yet, there I was. I used the emotional card. Did her parents’ love mean nothing
to her? Did she desire that her parents hang their heads in shame in front of
the groom’s family? ‘A suicide never solves anything’ I told her. ‘It is not
the sign of strong-will. It is an escapist’s way out. It does not end your
troubles. It compounds it for those around you.’ Much argument, punctuated with
silences, later, she seemed to come around. I was surprised at my ability at
counselling, I must say.
“She told her parents that she
had agreed to the wedding. It felt strange to me, however. I would wake up in
the middle of the night, hearing the indifferent tone with which she said she
would commit suicide, if she was forced into the wedding. I would check my
phone for any message or missed calls, heave a sigh of relief and go to sleep.
I dropped by their house for absolutely no reason at all, just to check that
she was safe.
“As the day of the
wedding approached, I was perhaps more tense than either of the families. I
decided then. A couple of days before the wedding, I went and spoke to the girl.
I had made all arrangements for her to elope with her cousin, if she did not
want enter this marriage. I gave her the details and even before she could
react, I left the house. I had already told the owner of the studio that I
would be leaving Bengaluru. I distant relative had died, I told him. It became my obligation to be there
for the rites and help the family in time of need. He did not object, now that
he would get my share of the profit as well. I boarded the bus to Kaaluru and
here I am. The very same anonymity that I had desired in Bengaluru helped me
exit noiselessly” Vishwa said, smiling half-heartedly. “The wedding is the day
after tomorrow.” Silence engulfed the
room for a few moments.
******************
“Why did I leave the business
when it was flourishing? Being a marriage broker, I was supposed to arrange
weddings but there I was making arrangements to disrupt one. Yet, had I forced
this wedding, there was no guarantee that the girl and her cousin would not
commit suicide, despite the girl having agreed to the wedding. I could not bear
anymore nights like those when I woke up sweating, feeling guilty of abetting
two suicides.
“Kaaluru’s romance attracted me. I
found the local politics between the Chairman and board members of the
Government School comforting. Small talk at Muttaiah’s saloon seemed
interesting. I would rather spend time doing odd jobs and narrating stories
than going back to such a life in Bengaluru. At least, not in the near future.”
I lay there in silence, digesting
everything I had just heard. Minutes later, I heard Vishwa snoring blissfully.
It was dawn when I finally drifted into an uneasy sleep.
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