Lost People

Happy Home was an administrative office building during the British Raj. Having not found any use, it was abandoned for many years. When the church took over it, the spacious halls were converted into smaller rooms. Since then it has served as a retirement home.

From the outside, even now, it has the air of a haunted house. If one has to see this gothic structure in the flash of lightning on a dark rainy night, it would give the person a shock of his life. I myself avoid venturing into some of the upper rooms at night; who knows what stories are buried in them.

A few years ago it scared the hell out of my wife. We were new at Happy Home; she avoided going out in the dark. The one time she went out, to attend to an old woman on her deathbed, she claimed to meet a ghost. Soon my wife disappeared. I don't blame her. I too didn't make any efforts to look for her. Sooner or later this house entraps you.

Months later I came to know, it was one of the residents, Santhan, whom my wife had mistaken for the ghost. For some reason Santhan had taken a fancy for walks at night, wearing one of Father Angelo's worn-out white robes. I don't have any doubt in my mind that Santhan has lost a few screws in his head. In the past whoever tried reasoning with these residents have lost their reason.

Who would have thought there would be a long list of people to get an entry in Happy Home? Certainly I didn't! When I accepted this job, I was glad to have a roof over our head, and three square meals a day. I have not many expectations.

A trust looks after the finance, but Father Angelo, who came from a small European country (I keep forgetting the name), is the man in charge here. He's been looking after the place for so long, I sometime forget that he's an outsider. In the initial days of my job, one or two times, he did mention about returning to his native land. These talks stopped after a while. And now, after many years at Happy Home he looks like one of the residents.

Every morning when I see Father Angelo, a feeling of relief comes over me. A satisfaction that everything is as it should be——Happy Home is still in safe hands.

////////////////////

He had informed me two days ago to expect a new member——one Mr. Kamath. Nuns, who come for the daily chores, cleaned and mopped the recently vacated room. The next day I went to the office a little early. I wear a tie during office hours. It separates me from the residents. Also, creates a nice impression when trustee members make a surprise visit.

Mr. Kamath was waiting alone outside in the reception area. Usually family members stay little longer. It's an awkward moment for them, from which they prefer to be relieved at the earliest. No such thing this time. Mr. Kamath was alone. Two suitcases were next to him.

“My name is Raja Rao,” I said. We shook hands. “I'll help you with the suitcases.” I led the way. Suitcases were heavy.

“What's in them?”

“Things I collected over a period,” he said. “I have distributed them equally to help anyone moving them.” I nodded. I wish Santhan had such sense.

He looked around the room. The nuns had done a fine job. I gave him the daily schedule.

“Press the bell, if you need anything.”

“Thank you Sir,” he said. “Most obliged.”

He looked quite cheerful, unlike some new residents, who are sad and gloomy in the first few days. As if someone has cheated them. One look at them would tell you that their end is near.

Mr. Kamath fetched a note from his wallet.

“It’s not necessary,” I said. I noticed it was the only note in the wallet.

“Keep it with you,” he said. “I don't think I'll have any use for it here anyway.”

Two things happened that day: No one had addressed me “Sir” till then, and no one had tipped me with such a large sum.

////////////////////

“Raja Rao come here at once,” I heard Mrs. Singh's alarmed shriek coming from the second floor. I didn't know she had such a piercing voice. I ran in her direction——forgot to thank Mr. Kamath.

Happy Home is quite unpredictable——always buzzing. Something or the other goes wrong. Old people are like children——or worse. We have all sorts of circus clowns in this house. When I took this job, I was not expecting such an eventful life.

This time Manath had locked himself with another resident and was threatening to kill him. Father Angelo was talking to the closed door. He had one ear to the door as if he was quietly listening to a confession. A few of the old people had surrounded him.

“May I be of any help?” grandpa Narayanan asked. He is the most senior resident at Happy Home; also the only one on a wheelchair.

“Who brought you here?” Second floor was inaccessible by wheelchairs.

“Santhan helped me,” he said sheepishly. One of these days I'll kill Santhan, and half of my worries will be over.

“Stay here. Don't go near the stairs.”

A commotion had started.

“Kill the bastard,” Santhan shouted not realizing the presence of priest. “Sorry Father,” he said sheepishly. By then Mrs. Singh had hit him on the head with her thick book.

“Mrs. Singh please,” I pleaded her, though I wish she had hit the fool harder.

“Manath, Manath,” Father Angelo's feeble voice tried to penetrate the closed door. “May I talk to you for a moment? Don't hurt Kazi please.”

This sort of politeness was useless with a beast like Manath——he should have been in the jail.

“Father Angelo save me from this devil,” Kazi's pleading voice came from the other side.

I remembered then, that a couple of window bars of the locked room were loose. I could enter the room from the window. I ran out to fetch a ladder. Instead found a bamboo pole that I propped against the window. At the bottom end, I placed a boulder to secure the pole. Then climbed to the window with the speed of an ape.

Manath was pulling open the door of the closet where Kazi was hiding. He got surprised to find my face at the window. “You stay away from this,” he shouted. Suddenly the bamboo pole started moving. I held the window bars tightly. The pole eased off my feet and fell down. Soon I was hanging in mid-air clinging to the window bars.

“Manath. Manath. Help me inside. I'll fall.”

“Stay away from this.”

“Manath you fool.”

The pole had fallen. I was far above the ground. A fall from that height could have caused serious injuries. It would certainly put me in a wheelchair——make me a resident.

At that time the door opened. Mr. Kamath came in, followed by rest of the gang. He had a bunch of keys in his hand. He looked at me and grasped the situation at once. He and Father Angelo pulled me inside.

“The new man broke the lock,” said Mrs. Singh. Kazi had vanished. Manath stayed stupidly near the closet, staring at the roof.

“May I talk to you for a moment in my office?” Father Angelo asked him. Manath followed like a wet dog.

I collapsed into the near by chair, gasping for air.

/////////////////////////

In the evening I met Mr. Kamath in his room. He showed me his toolbox; all sorts of tools were neatly arranged in it.

“Picking locks is a hobby,” he said.

Manath knocked the door and joined us. Santhan stayed at the door. They are always together. Though, they met only at Happy Home. Manath is the master-mind behind many of their evil schemes. Santhan just follows the master.

“Nice job,” Manath addressed Mr. Kamath. “You are a useful person, but on the wrong side.” He ignored me completely. “Sooner or later you need to take a stand: friends or the management.” I am supposed to be the collaborator with the management. Whereas the management thinks I am the dark sheep, privy to the schemes of these two fools. It’s an irony. I myself don't know where I belong in this circus.

“I'm Manath.” They shook hands. “My friend at the door is Santhan. Welcome to Happy Home. Obviously you have met our manager. I am sure he has informed you to use the bell in case of emergency. But most bells don't work.” He gave a detached look.

“All bells work. You just need to oil your ears,” I said.

He ignored me and continued: “Management refuses to fix them. My suggestion to you, in case of emergency, is to throw one of your tools at the roof. Santhan stays right above. He doesn't sleep. He'll be at your service with diabolic speed.” I didn't have any doubt on Santhan's diabolism——certainly a devil's man.

“What was the fight about?” I asked Manath.

“I don't need to tell you that, I have poured out my hearts content to Father Angelo,” he said looking away, “But I'll tell you anyway.”

At times I had wondered who's more insane, Santhan or his master, and I have failed to come to a conclusion.

“Kazi burned Gatlu with a lit cigarette.”

“Who's Gatlu?”

“My pet.”

“You have a pet?”

“I do.”

“Where's it?”

He pointed to the door. I went to the door and found Santhan struggling with a rope; the other end was tied to a small animal that was tugging the rope with a fierce hatred towards the captor.

“What the-”

“It's a mongoose.”

“Where did you find it?” The animal stopped tugging, bared a set of pointy teeth, and lurched at me. I jumped aside at the last moment——saved myself from the attack.

“I found it on one of my walks.”

“It's a wild animal,” I said, once at a safer distance.

“Not any more. It's a pet now. Moreover it'll help you catch the snakes.”

“There are no snakes here!” I said in frustration. “I have never seen a single snake in the surroundings.”

“That's because the little-devil here has finished them all.”

I was not going to argue with that.

“Manath, I cannot allow it inside the house. Please leave it where you found it.”

“I have asked Father Angelo's permission. He's fine with having it in my room.”

So far I had only two screw-loose idiots to take care of. Now this animal had joined the gang.

I went straight to Father Angelo. Found him in the garden. A few times, I must agree, I have seen him talking to the flower bushes. That would surprise any sane person, not me. I am here so long, nothing surprises me any more.

“Father Angelo,” I said. “Manath has a Mongoose. It may not——”

“I know. Where did he find it?”

“I don't know. He claims to found it on one of his walks. He may be lying. It may not be safe to have it inside the house.”

That certainly got his attention, stopped him from whatever he is doing.

“Do you expect someone to harm it?”

“No. I expect the stupid animal to harm one of the elderly residents.”

“Don't worry about it. Mongooses are real quiet animals. One just needs to be careful of its darts. They are real sharp.”

“It's a mongoose, not a porcupine!”

“Oh yes,” he smiled sheepishly. “I missed that. Then we are completely safe.”

Sometimes I find it difficult differentiate the priest from the residents.

“Raja Rao you did a good job today,” Father Angelo said. This compliment was not going to stop me from my other suggestion.

“Father Angelo, I think Santhan has lost it.”

“Lost what?”

“Whatever there is to lose. He's the one who rocked the ladder.”

“What ladder?”

“The bamboo pole I used to climb to the window. He dislodged the boulder I had kept for support.”

“Did you see him doing that?”

“I’m positive.”

“Then he didn't do it.”

“He's mental. We should shift him to the mental hospital.”

That made him pause. I knew what he was thinking. We had sent one of the residents to the mental hospital a few months ago. The treatment at the hospital had gone wrong, and the patient had become a vegetable.

“Santhan has not lost anything. He's just little excited.”

He said sternly and turned to the rose bush, indicating the conversation was over. The man is old——incapable of finding faults in anyone.

///////////////////////

I left him with his rose bushes, and carried on with my chores. Kazi stopped me at his door——offered me a cigarette. I don’t smoke. That’s one of the reasons for his generosity.

“Why did you put a lit cigarette on the animal?”

“I didn't do that,” he said, “You know me Raj Rao. I won't harm a soul.” The fool has a penchant for dramatics.

“I went to Manath’s room and found Santhan and him playing with the strange animal. Santhan introduced me to it. It has a funny name.”

“Gatlu.”

“Yes. That's it. It is a strange name. Evil-name if you ask me. What kinds of people name their pet Gatlu?”

“Come to the point.”

“You are quite impatient. I offered a cigarette to the animal, like anyone would do when meeting a new person——a friendly gesture. I offered you a cigarette just now. Didn’t I?”

“You offered a lit cigarette to a mongoose.”

“Yes I did. I didn't expect the animal to light the damn cigarette.” The fool won't miss an opportunity to be sarcastic. I regretted putting my life in danger, dangling at the second floor window, for this idiot. “As soon as I offered it,” the idiot continued, “the stupid animal jumped at it, and burned itself.”

/////////////////////////

Mr. Kamath proved to be a useful man. His little tools were handy more than one time. He accompanied me to the city for the weekly groceries. It's an hour's journey. On the way, he told me many stories of his youth. He had traveled to America in his younger days; that's where he had learned to address everyone as 'Sir'.

Manath and Santhan were quiet after the last incident. I had not seen the mongoose. The wretched animal had scratched all the walls. Mrs. Singh had complained about her books being torn by the rats. There are no rats in the house——only a mongoose. Mrs. Singh read all the time, as if she was preparing for an exam. She was a teacher. She once told me that she didn't have time to read books in her teaching days; now having the world of time, she had entered the world of books. “If only I had read them in my younger days,” she told me one time and, gave me a pile of books. I don't have a choice. She often asks me the status of my reading. At first I felt like a mountainous task forced on me; gradually I started liking the books. I don't have any doubt in my mind that they have certainly helped me understand the world better.

Then there is a couple, I fondly call them The Lovers, behind their back. They are seen together all the time. They found each other here at Happy home. I am surprised to realize how much they have in common. If you ask them a question, about anything, individually, chances are both would give the same answer. They are very polite. It only tells me that they had a tough life before joining Happy Home.

Often days are long. The residents know there are no more goals to achieve, or no tasks to complete. Some realize this sooner, some eventually. It is an unfair life. All your achievements and all your possessions worth nothing—sooner or later you need to leave everything behind.

/////////////////

One day, after I had gone to sleep for a while, I heard a strange noise coming from outside the door. It scared me. Did my wife really see a ghost? I opened the door. The mongoose was scratching the wall. Not making any noise, I picked the brick at the door, which I use as a doorstopper, and aimed it at the wretched animal. It scurried at the last moment. As soon as I did that, someone grabbed me from behind, pushed me to the wall, and made me immobile.

“The next time you do that, I'll kill you.” It was Manath. I felt his warm breath on the back of my neck. The fool was strong for his age.

“Leave me alone.”

“Shhh! Just listen,” Santhan said. “Boss is talking to you.” The fool thinks he is some kind of a henchman.

“I don't have many friends,” said Manath. “If you hurt my friends, I'll hurt you. I don't think at this age I need to care for my actions.”

“Manath you'll break my arm.”

“I am going to hurt you more if you meddle in my affairs.”

“Boss Gatlu has vanished,” Santhan said. “We can take care of this worm later.”

Worm! He would pay for this.

Manath released me. They ran outside to fetch the animal. I took a few deep breaths.

“May I be of any help?”

I had not noticed grandpa Narayanan in the dim light.

“What are you doing at this hour?”

“I can't find my room,” he said. I guided his wheelchair to his room——helped him to his bed.

“How long I have been here, Raja Rao?”

“A little over 5 years.”

“I am forgetting things.”

“I too forget.”

“I haven't seen the outside world for a long time.” We talked for a while, till he was ready to sleep. I kept a glass of water next to his bed and quietly closed the door.

//////////////////////

The next day Mr. Kamath didn't come for the breakfast.

“They took him to the hospital,” Mrs. Singh informed me. Apparently Manath, Santhan, and Father Angelo had taken him to the hospital.

After he got discharged, I met him in his room. The medication had made him pale and weak.

“That day I slept late,” I said, “I might not have heard the bell.”

“Don't worry about it,” Mr. Kamath said.

“The bell doesn't work.” Manath joined us. “He threw one of his hammers to the roof. Santhan called Father Angelo.”

At least Santhan did one good deed during his stay at Happy Home.

//////////////////////

The schoolchildren came on Saturday. They visit Happy Home once a year. They gathered everyone in the library and played a few games with the old people. Father Angelo sang a song in his native tongue. He had forgotten some of the words. I am sure in a few years he will forget the whole song and only a tune will remain in his heart.

Just before the conclusion, Manath took the mic. I was little surprised to see him at the center. He had never participated in these activities. Everyone went silent; even the children in the front row, who were restless for a long time, were eager to listen.

“First of all, I want to say to the children of Mother Mary Primary School,” he looked around, “Fuck You! You come here once a year; create all the noise. You think you are doing a big favor. Once you are gone, you simply forget us till the next school trip. Well, go somewhere else for the picnic. We don't want your sympathy.”

Sister Miriam, the schoolteacher, gaped in horror. It happened so fast even Father Anglo who was in the front row froze. We all waited for something to happen. Then Mr. Kamath stepped forward to reason with Manath.

“Let me finish——” he said in a loud voice.

“They are just children Manath,” said Mr. Kamath. “They don't deserve this.” He took the mic and gave it to Father Angelo. We had to wrap up the remaining event awkwardly.

That evening Mr. Kamath peeped into my room.

“Busy?”

“Not really,” I said.

“Come to the terrace, let’s have a party.” He had a bottle in hand. “Johnnie Walker Green Label,” he said.

“Where did you find that?”

“Well, I have my sources. Come to the terrace. We’ll talk.”

I finished my chores in a hurry. Manath and Santhan were on the terrace too. The party was to cheer-up Manath, who was not in his usual self after the incident. But after a couple of pegs he loosened up.

“It's depressing here,” he said. “I wish things were different. When I had money, I helped everyone. I wish I had saved some of that.” I had not seen this side of Manath. “What's your story?” He asked Mr. Kamath.

“I don't have a story.”

We drank in silence. It was getting dark; mosquitoes had started buzzing. Father Angelo came looking for Mr. Kamath. He needed one of his tools. We offered him a glass.

“Not for me,” he said. “Done that in the past life. Found something else now,” he said and left with Mr. Kamath. We were little tipsy.

Santhan had a little too much to drink, like the camel who had found an oasis after a long journey. He kept humming an old song.

“Santhan you may leave now,” said Manath. “I'll be here for some time.”

Manath and I stayed back. I drained the contents of my glass and got up to leave. “Raja Rao?”

I looked at him.

“What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Leave this place; you are young. Find a good job somewhere. Don't end up here like me.”

I nodded and went downstairs leaning on the wall. I had not consumed good alcohol in ages. Else, I would have sensed something. Manath jumped from the terrace, little later. No one noticed his absence. In the early morning, Mrs. Singh was the first one to see him from her second floor window. She saw the immovable human structure on the ground and informed Santhan who was roaming in the aisle in his white robe.

///////////////////

Santhan cried and cried. No one could console him. The police talked to everyone who was with Manath on the terrace. One by one we took turns in the library.

“You were the last one with him?” A muscular man in uniform asked me.

I nodded.

“Did you sense anything unusual?”

“Not then. He was little upset that day.”

“How long you have been here?”

I told him.

“What do you do?”

I told him apart from other chores, taking care of the residents was my main responsibility.

“And yet,” he stopped me. He browsed the file in his hand. “And yet, you failed to be of any help, when one of the residents,” he stopped again to refer the file, “Kamath had an emergency.”

I wondered how he got that information. I sensed something was wrong.

“How was your relationship with Manath?”

“Fine. We were not best friends.”

“Did you push him?”

“What?”

“One of the residents has claimed that you pushed him off the terrace.”

“Who?”

“One Mr. Santhan.”

I closed eyes. “Santhan is mad.”

“We'll find that out soon.”

“He didn't do it.” It was Mr. Kamath. The inspector checked his notes to find the new person's name. “Kamath I am done talking to you,” he said sternly.

“Yes Sir. I was outside the door. I heard some of your talks. I might have useful information.”

“What is it?”

“Raja Rao and I were the last people on the terrace. Though, I left little early, I waited for Raja Rao at the stairs, who joined me soon. Manath jumped much later.”

“Can you say that in the court of law, if needed?”

“Yes sir. Most certainly.”

///////////////////////

Mr. Kamath led me to his room. I sat on the bed. Mr. Kamath sat next to me.

“Why did you lie?” I asked.

“I know you are innocent,” he said.

“I can't do this anymore,” I said. An overwhelming feeling came over me. “I am tired of this life; Tired of so many deaths; Tired of ingrate people like Santhan. I have worked day and night for these people. See what I have got into.”

Father Angelo came in a hurry. “Raja Rao It's all a mistake,” he said. “I talked with the Inspector. No one is going to ask you any more questions.” I nodded in silence.

“I want to show you something,” he took my hand and dragged me to the door. A large crowd had gathered at the library door, where the inspector was conducting the interview. I saw Mrs. Singh. Grandpa, The Lovers——in fact most of the residents were there. Kazi had made a placard. It read in bold: “RAJA RAO IS INNOCENT!”

“That’s little extreme,” said Father Angelo. “But the man has a point. They have all gathered there to speak for you. Just because they don't mention it often, it doesn't mean that they don't appreciate what you are doing for them. You are a good man Raja Rao. I want you to know that.”

//////////////////////

That night I felt a heaviness on my chest; I suddenly woke up.

“Don’t move.” It was Santhan.

He sat on my chest. In the white robe he looked like a ghost. He held the kitchen knife to my neck.

“What do you want?”

“Did you push him?” he asked.

“No.”

“Don't lie to me.”

“I’m not lying.”

“If I ever come to know you pushed him, I’ll kill you.”

“You could have told me that in the morning.”

“Yes. But I thought it would be good to inform you at the earliest.”

“Get off my chest.”

He got down from the bed. Sat in the chair.

“Where's the mongoose?”

“I don't know,” I said.

In all this confusion it had vanished.

“If I find out you have a hand in its disappearance, you'll regret it.”

“I regret being here——Taking care of old fools like you.”

“I'll talk to you some other time. Right now, I need to find boss.”

“Which boss? Your boss is dead!”

He ignored me. His eyes were red shot. He looked like a strange person. Like a ghost. He left the knife on the table and went out. Not the Santhan I knew.

After the incident, I was sleepless for days. I started locking the door from inside.

///////////////////

The only person to retain a balance in all the confusion was Mr. Kamath. How much I had started admiring him. Many a times, I had wondered how he maintained his calmness.

On Sunday, I knocked on his door. It was the grocery day. He usually opened the door at the first knock. I waited some time, then lightly pushed the door. It was open. Mr. Kamath was still in bed. I sensed the situation right away. He had quietly passed away sometime during the night. My eyes welled up, and blurred my vision. I sat next to him for a long time, till someone noticed my absence and came looking for me.

///////////////////

Some days later, Father Angelo said one of the trustees wanted to talk to me. I had never talked with any of them, except for the occasional greeting when I served coffee and snacks at the meetings. I was surprised that one of them had something to tell me.

A well dressed man received me at the library.

“Are you Raja Rao?”

I nodded.

“How well did you know Kamath?”

“Quite well.”

“Apparently you created a nice impression on him.”

“He was good to me.”

“So good that he went great lengths to buy expensive alcohol for you and your friends.”

I looked at him. I sensed he had some sort of anger in him. Before I could say anything, Santhan peeped into the room.

“Raja Rao, I got you bastard,” he said. “I have proof now. It was you who pushed him. Take your time with the gentleman inside. Because the moment you come out, I’ll wring your neck”

Then he vanished.

“Who is he?” asked the lawyer.

“One of the residents here.”

“He looks like a mental case. Do you think his behavior is abnormal? We can shift him to the mental hospital.”

I remembered how Santhan had made my life hell. All those sleepless nights. I wondered what schemes he was hatching this time. He had called me a worm not long ago.

“Santhan is perfectly normal,” I said. “He's just little excited today.”

“If you say so. Anyway, we have more important things to discuss.” He pushed an envelope across the table.

“Kamath's Will,” he said. “He has a small house. Because of his health, he couldn't have stayed alone in the house. He needed constant supervision. He has willed the house in your name.”

I felt a knot in my neck. An involuntary droplet escaped my eye. “It is very kind of him,” I said.

“I can help you with the paper work. You can take ownership at your convenience.”

I took some time to grasp the situation.

“Did you speak about the Will with any one else?”

“No.”

“Well I am afraid I cannot survive outside this place. I am little used to this place now.”

“Think about it. You won't get this opportunity again.”

“I don't need to think again. I belong here.”

He loosened his tie. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Some of the emergency bells are not working, if you could arrange someone to fix them, it would be a great help.”

“Is that what you want?”

I nodded.

“Well, It can be arranged.” He collected his bag and files. He wished me good luck before leaving. He looked relaxed.

///////////////////

That night I woke up suddenly at the sound of scratching at the door. I opened the door. The mongoose entered the room, and curled up on the gunny bag at the corner. I placed a bowl of water next to it. It drank little, then went back to its slumber. I had a busy day ahead; Father Angelo had informed me in the evening that a new person was expected to join the next day, and asked me to arrange a room for the new resident. 

                          ////////////

Note: This story was published on daijiworld.com. Click here to read it on daijiworld.com. 

Men do strange things

"Oh, my Lolita, I have only words to play with!"

-Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov

The whole town of Kaasi is here, outside the church, though it’s a weekday. People of Kaasipura would go to great lengths for free food——leave ones father at deathbed. In the crowd I know at least a few people who will kill me if they get an opportunity, just for fun; such a depressing lot. The prime reason for organizing an event on a weekday is to avoid the working people, school children, and teachers. The plan has backfired. Weekday or not, the whole Kaasi gang is here——except Iris. Many have come just to see Iris.

Prior to Iris, ours was a quiet town. Nothing much happened here. The entire timeline could be divided in two parts: Kaasi before Iris, and Kaasi after she made her presence.

Maggi-Teacher came to me and said: “Are you sure she is coming? People notoriously vanish on your big day.” Being retired, she thinks she doesn’t need any sophistication. I ignored the old crone.

I still remember the day I saw Iris first time, at my DVD shop. My Father’s in fact.

Our ancestors were all farmers; even grandfather farmed all his life. I don’t know what went into Father’s mind. Farming was not his thing. He opened the first VHS rental shop of Kaasi, in spite of relentless begging from Mother, not to invest money in such a doomed venture. Father had never listened to anyone and he was not going to change himself now. Being a cinema buff himself, in the initial days, he was the biggest customer of his new business.

Along with renting VHS cassettes, he also booked the tickets for Mumbai buses that traveled via Kaasi. Ticketing flourished for some time, and promised the potential to replace the cassette renting business. But the Konkan Railway project put a stop to that. People not only preferred the faster train but also learned quickly to book the train-tickets online.

////////////////

When I took over the business, ticketing had completely stopped. I didn’t make any changes in the business model, except replaced all those VHS cassettes with DVDs. VHS cassettes were bulky and non-reliable; they caught fungus if not used regularly. Business never really flourished. Days were dull; often, I longed for anyone to show up at the shop——just to kill the time.

Then one day a Jaguar stopped in front of the shop; It was one of the last models of Ford before they got rid of the business. A well dressed middle-aged man got out of it. There was a young woman on the front seat; she didn’t get down. The man was bald, and smoked a pipe. I remember him clearly since no one else in Kaasi smoked a pipe.

He came inside, gave me a nod, and started browsing the DVDs stacked up against the wall. A very sophisticated gentleman, I thought. I helped another customer. As soon as the last customer left, the bald-man turned towards me.

“Got any Triple X movies?”

Mother of…I had created such a nice impression about this man. I restrained a deep desire to lurch for his bald-head to bang it on the table.

“This is a respectable place,” I controlled myself, pointed him to the framed picture of Mother Mary on the wall, “We don’t carry such things here.”

The fool ignored me and blew a kiss to the woman outside in the car. She didn’t respond. She looked occupied with something else.

“Iris,” he opened the door to call her. “Iris, come over here.” The woman reluctantly obeyed.

“Do you want to watch anything? Pick something nice. They don’t have any classic horror movies.” The man winked at me. ‘Classic Horror' being his cue for porn. The woman idly looked around, nothing in particular. She wore a turtleneck and a skirt. Her hair was wavy——stopped at the shoulders. She had big curious eyes.

I took, The Passion of the Christ, off the ‘devotional’ section and offered it to the woman: “You might like this ma’am,” I said politely. The bald-geezer grabbed it before the woman could. A smirk came over his face. “Too much blood,” he said, and tossed the DVD right back to me. I caught it promptly, “careful mister,” I said.

“Let’s go honey.”

The bald-man planted a kiss on her cheek. In Kaasi, no one ever had kissed a wife (or anyone) in public——in broad daylight. Postman Inas who had just entered the shop to deliver mail, saw this peck in horror.

The couple left. Inas gaped till the Jaguar vanished at the corner. He idled at the shop now and then. After the internet boom people resorted to emails——there were not many Inland Letters to deliver.

“Who are they?” he let out a lewd whistle, the one often heard in the cinema halls after the lights went off.

“I don’t know. They just stopped by.”

“I tell you Tonya, either she has been kidnapped or he is a very rich man.”

Inas has no work but to spread such rumors. I was sure the whole Kaasi would talk about kidnapping in a few hours. “Mark my words,” his voice came from a deep well, “everything here is going to change.” The dramatist. He had once played the part of Jesus in our annual church festival.

“I need to go—”

I knew where he was heading. He would run to the tea-shop where the regular gang met. He would be restless till he talked about the event with at least ten people. Once Inas got something, it’s like publishing on our local paper Daily Alarm——only faster.

////////////////

The bald-man and Iris lived at the old dilapidated bungalow at the far end of Kaasi. For years only a caretaker lived there. I had heard that the owners of the bungalow were murdered long back. Their bodies were found in the abandoned well in the farm. The only son had fled. The bald-man could be the son. There were so many rumors flying, you never really knew what’s real and what’s unreal.

Inas proved to be right though; things did change afterwards. The buses stopped in front of the bungalow; although, there was not a stop. Iris took the bus to market once in a while. On such days, men fought to offer her a seat. Bus conductors, who raised hell if correct change was not produced, didn’t squirm for her notes of large sum. The things she touched were treasured as mementos, and some times were secretly auctioned for outrageous price. All hell broke.

Before Iris, auto drivers demanded one-and-half fare for a ride towards the bungalow——now offered discounts.

The Sunday masses, which were almost empty in the past, ran house-full once Iris started attending them. Even our old vicar, who never liked or disliked Kaasi, noticed the change. In the past, he had seldom looked at the congregation from the altar. And, he had nothing to say about the declining numbers at the Sunday masses. His sermons were shortest, not much different from one another.

Such a man stopped the mass briefly, one fine day, to observe the surprisingly large assemblage. He softly asked the altar-boy Ijju, if it was the annual church festival. I had never seen Ijju in the church, before Iris. Often he was seen at the cricket ground or outside the cinema theatre. But nowadays he attended mass like a religious zealot. From the altar he got an elevated view of Iris. The young fool was only in seventh standard, but he had already developed a crush on Iris.

The bald-man accompanied Iris for the mass; else, the men of Kaasi would have pounced on her like a pack of wolves, ignoring they were inside a holy establishment.

Some times Iris graced one of the middle pews. On those days, the benches ahead of her remained empty. And, the ones behind her were full; devotees of Iris (and Jesus of course) preferred the inconvenience of standing in the back instead of occupying the empty benches ahead of her.

Kaasi buzzed.

////////////////

One day I was returning from the neighboring town in an auto, when I saw Iris waiting for the bus. I tapped on the driver’s shoulder to stop the auto. Iris looked up from the book.

“Do you need a ride?” I asked.

“Do I know you?” she said.

She then promptly returned to her book. I waited in silence. Rotten people. You just can’t offer help.

“If you don’t have anything to say, let’s go,” said the auto driver.

“You are in a great hurry.”

“I am telling for your own benefit. Meter is running…”

I wanted to strangle the idiot right there. Kaasi is full of such over-smart people. If only they had used their smartness in a constructive way.

The next day old Maggi-Teacher stopped at the shop. “You never gave me a ride.” She complained.

“What do you want?”

“But for a characterless woman, you’ll not only stop the auto, but get down and earnestly beg to accept your offer.”

I should have wrenched the auto driver. And, now this worthless Maggi-Teacher is demanding justice. If only I had a sharp object handy.

Soon I’ll lose my mind, I thought; I’ll become like our vicar. He was a man with a vision in his initial days. But Kaasi killed his spirit, distorted his vision——made him a robot.

“Tell me, why you never give me a ride?”

“You are not my type.” I said in frustration.

“What do you mean?”

“If you were younger, I would have——”

“Stop your blasphemous talk. I am ashamed to call you my student. See what you have become. I knew your Father and Grandfather. Such great men. And, look at you. A low life drooling over an amoral woman.”

Everyone talked about Iris. Women hated her. Men loved her. Bitch. This place was so quiet and serene before her.

In the tea stall usual gang had surrounded Inas. He always had some interesting story to tell. I ordered a tea and joined the gang.

“…and right then the man put a hand round her waist and pulled her. Their lips joined. Her one hand clutched the table for support. Her nails made an impression on the tabletop. All along, she didn’t make one single move of resistance, instead moaned in ecstasy.”

I had no doubt who the person was. But I wondered when and where this incident happened.

“…then they accidentally leaned against the DVD rack, and a whole stack of DVDs fell over them.”

Mother of…the fool was narrating the first-day incident!

“You have a great imagination,” said retired Narayanan.

“You think I am lying,” challenged Inas.

“I didn’t say that. I just said you have a great imagination.”

“You think…well Tony is here. It all happened in his shop. Tonya, tell them the truth.”

Everyone looked at me.

“Something like that had happened.” I walked away from the gang.

“Say Tony,” someone called out. I stopped. “Looks like you have started offering rides for strangers.”

A loud laughter broke out. I came out in a hurry. Iris Iris Iris! If only she had accepted the ride. I just tried to help a fellow human being; A gesture of a noble citizen. Such things occur in Mangalore everyday, no one cares. But in Kaasi it’s a big deal——national event. People talk about such things for days. I decided to stay away from Iris.

I didn’t know how long people would pester me this time. Last time the talks had dragged well over a year. Three years ago, on my wedding day, the bride eloped with her lover. We all waited and waited at the church. Eventually someone got the wind of it. People started talking in hushed voices. Photographer Mark was the best-man; he called me aside to break the sad news. I didn’t feel much for losing a wife. Instead, I felt glad that she left before the wedding. Kaasi was merciless though. It was waiting for something like this. Some even smelled my hand in the bride’s eloping. Some concluded I had sexual problems. All sorts of rumors broke out.

////////////////

The bald-man often vanished for days. No one knew where he went or what he did. There were rumors of him mistreating Iris. Some people had heard loud noises coming from the bungalow. But I don’t believe this. No one is dependable in Kaasi anymore. In the bald-man’s absence, Inas had tried to gain access to the old bungalow with the excuse of delivering mails. But only the caretaker entertained him at the gate.

One day, on hearing Sastri-Sir had been admitted to the hospital, I went to pay him a visit. He was quite close to Father. While returning, I saw Iris at the reception. She was waiting for her turn, reading a book: One Hundred Years of…something. Who wants to live for hundred years? I clearly saw a blue patch under one eye. She looked up from the book.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Mind your own business,” she said.

Bitch! Bitch! Bitch! I decided never to talk to her again.

The next day Maggi-Teacher stopped at the shop. She had a smirk on her face.

“What?” I said.

“You are a very sympathetic person,” she said, “In your heart you care for beaten woman. Never mind she is a lady or a characterless woman. Everyone is equal in your eyes. You have the qualities of Jesus. And yet, last year, I was lying in the hospital for well over a month, you didn’t pay me a single visit.”

How can anyone not lose his mind in Kaasi?

////////////////

In the subsequent days, I remained low, and observed the events with detached interest. Business was down. I wished Father had done some thing with the land. I had tried a few options: planted coconut trees; later tried to raise a cashew orchard, but nothing worked. The land lay barren. Ijju and the gang played cricket on it in the weekends.

A couple of times, I asked our Vicar if he is interested in the land next to the graveyard; it was not strictly a business proposal. I was not trying to make money from the God’s man. Of course, I was not giving it away too; I was expecting whatever minimum the church could afford. My proposal didn’t interest the old crone.

“No need for graveyard extension,” he said, “Not many people die here.”

The fool! He’s not interested in anything, except painting the church for Christmas. Every year he shows up with a few altar boys for church-painting collection. Church is the brightest thing in Kaasi, with the exception of sun! If a foreigner were to land in Kaasi, he would certainly take pictures of the colorful church building.

////////////////

Many days I didn’t hear anything about Iris. Mainly because I stopped going to the tea stall; I ordered tea at the shop. Then one day Inas came in the early morning, which was not his usual time.

“I am not interested in Iris. Don’t tell me anything.”

“Watchdog is dead,” he said.

“Call Panchayat…who?”

“The bald-man is dead; his body was found in the dry well.”

When I reached the place, there was already a sizable crowd. Police had not yet come. Whatever evidence that could have helped the police, was already trampled by the curious lot. The body was still in the well; only because of the shining head one could conclude whom it belonged to.

I saw Maggi-Teacher coming out of the front door of the bungalow. People wandered inside the house like they were in a temple. Till then such an access was denied to them. They had seen the bungalow in awe, only from a distance. Kaasi had waited like a vulture to the fall of the high and mighty.

I didn’t enter the house. From the window, I could see a few people inside the bedroom. They had entered the house with the inquisitiveness of the little boy, who tears up the toy to understand its working; like the child, people in the bedroom, too got disappointed not to find anything amusing.

While I was at the gate, I turned to look at the bungalow one last time. And then I saw her. She was on the terrace, indifferent to all the events unfolding on the ground. Our eyes crossed for a brief moment. Then she looked away.

Many rumors started. Some thought Iris was the murderess. But it was evident that the bald-man was involved with the wrong kind of people; guilty or not, Iris had to make several visits to the police station. The bald-man was in debt till his nose. The bungalow was seized by the debtors, and Iris was given a notice to vacate.

She moved to a one-room rental place, on the other end of Kaasi, where she kept to herself for many weeks.

The buzz stopped.

////////////////

One day Sastri-sir came to the shop. He was a friend of my Father, and along with Mother he had begged Father not to invest in the VHS business.

“Your Father never listened to me,” he said fondly. “But I hope you are not like him.”

“I am always open for good advice, sir,” I said. I was once his student.

“Do you know Kaasi is going to be a part of Special Economic Zone?”

I didn’t know what that meant.

“The whole place is going to be an industrial area.”

“More business. More customers,” I gaped. “I need to buy a new DVD collection.”

“You are your Father’s son; like him you too have a tunnel vision,” Sastri-sir smiled. “Forget the DVD shop. The land price is going to sky rocket. Wait for the right moment. Sell off some of your land. If you do the right move you’ll become the richest man of Kaasi.”

Mother of…It’s a beggar’s dream. I held Sastri-sir’s hand in anxiety. He shook my hand, wished me good luck, and left me alone to float in my imagination.

////////////////

Unlike my Father, I listened to my well wishers. I now have a boy at the DVD shop. I don’t need to be at the shop everyday. I have plans to buy the old bungalow.

One day, a pseudo baba with a bowl of fuming camphor came to the shop. With a bunch of peacock feathers, he directed the fumes to four corners. These days such sadhus are numerous. I offered a 2 rupee note.

“Master, one cannot buy peppermint in such a small amount——”

“Stop the nonsense. Take it or leave it.”

“Master is upset,” the fool gave an all-knowing smile, but pocketed the money anyway before leaving the shop.

And, then I saw her. With all the smoke baba had raised I could not notice her sooner. In the clearing smoke she looked like a goddess. Goddess?! What an imagination I have developed. Iris. Oh, Iris! I have only words to play with.

“Tony,” she said. She knew my name! “Do you have The Sound of Music in your collection?”

I smiled inside. If only Kaasi had such an exotic taste for cinema. Of course, I had not seen that movie; And, I can assure you, no one in Kaasi had seen that movie either. And, yet, I croaked: “It’s gone out. It’ll come back tomorrow.”

“I’ll come tomorrow then,” she said.

“No Need. I’ll send someone.”

As soon as she left, I asked the boy to manage the shop, and drove to Mangalore in my Jaguar to buy, The Sound of Music.

////////////////

Here we are outside the church waiting. The whole Kaasi is here, though it’s a weekday. I am not very comfortable in a suit wearing a tie. Inside I am very nervous.

Maggi-Teacher came to me and said: “Are you sure she is coming? People notoriously vanish on your big day.” She doesn’t have a positive thing to say, though this time I did send a car to her house to pick her up.

Photographer Mark was next to me; Once again in the same role of the best-man. “Don’t worry, nothing will go wrong this time,” he said.

Local MLA Shakti Shetty gave me a hug. “Tony Saab, always a pleasure to attend your functions,” he said. Though I had never met him before.

“Hey Tonya,” Inas shook my hands. “Stay away from waterless wells.” He winked with an understanding smile.

I stared him, silently.

“Call me Tony,” I said.

“What?”

“My friends call me Tony. I don’t have any other man.”

He looked nervous. “Relax Tony. I am your friend. Anything you want. You don’t want to get upset on your big day.”

Then a commotion started in the crowd. We all saw the decorated white car making an entry at the front gate. It came in majestically and stopped at the door. Mark went ahead to open the door. I followed him. And, out came the most gorgeous woman, Iris. In the white gown she really looked like an angel.

“Iris my love, what took you so long?” I took her hand. This was a Hollywood line I had practiced. I gave her the bouquet and planted a kiss on her cheek; the kiss lasted for a few deliberate seconds. Kaasi will burn tomorrow. We all entered the church, for the vicar had already started the wedding mass.

You sir, ask, how can I do such a ghastly thing: marry the woman whom I hated so much, who ignored me all the time, and who is responsible for all the confusion. If only you had seen Iris once. I assure you, sir, you would do the same thing if you were in my shoes. In that we men are same. We do strange things.

Note: If you liked this short story, you might like my other short stories as well. Click here for more.

This story was published on Daiji.