Aatish Taseer - The Temple-Goers

Minutes later I picked my way past Sanyogita, asleep still on the sofa. Downstairs, the chowkidar, wrapped up in a woollen cap and scarf, had lit a fire in a shallow cement dish outside his bunk. It burned steadily in the circular hollows of his bifocal spectacles. We were both standing over it, warming our hands, when Chamunda’s white Ambassador and escort turned into the U-shaped lane that ran in front of the house. The car door opened and she gestured to me to get in. She had been at dinner when I called and the Ambassador’s roomy interior smelt of tuberose perfume and cigarettes.

‘Where’s Sanyogita?’ she asked.

‘Upstairs. Asleep.’

She looked deeply at me through the gloom in the car, reading into my short reply.

‘Does she know you called me?’

‘No.’

‘Good,’ she said. ‘She can get a little emotional in these situations.’ Then her soft hand covering mine, she leaned forward slightly and said, ‘Driver, take a little round. We want to chat for a bit.’

The car drove out of the lane and into the dark streets of Jorbagh.

The information that I had given Chamunda on the phone – that Aakash was my friend and trainer and Sparky his lawyer – the information that had been enough for her to want to see me immediately, now, in its extended form, complete with details of Sparky’s plan, irritated Chamunda. She wanted, with the pride of someone used to having special information, to assert herself over me.

‘Nothing new there,’ she said. ‘It’s all very standard what he’s saying. Baba, I didn’t come here tonight out of any fear of what Sparky Punj or Shabby can do to me. I came because this chappy’s your friend. That’s what concerns me. And I’m willing to do everything in my power to help him. What I need to know from you, though, is how well you know the guy. I mean, is he just the trainer or is he a pal of yours too?’

‘A pal too, I suppose. Why do you ask?’

I felt she was indirectly asking me to vouch for his innocence. But I was wrong.

‘Can we trust him?’ she presently said.

‘Sure… But what for?’

‘Well, see. The idea that came to me the moment I heard he was your friend was that if we could trust this fellow, then we should remove him from the sort of detention he’s in – he was never arrested so that’s not an issue – and move him into a more informal detention.’

‘Like a safe house?’

‘Something like that. Let’s say guest house. I know the place. It’s just across the Delhi border, in Sectorpur itself. You know, just till this media frenzy dies down and we have a better idea of who really did this thing. We can give the press some vague line: he’s being interrogated but isn’t under arrest etc… What I want to know from you, though, is how dependable he is. Will he stay quiet, away from Shabby and people like that? Will he give up this crazy plan of Sparky’s?’

‘I’m not sure, I suppose,’ I said, unable to gauge her logic completely and also unable to articulate what I was missing.Chamunda pre-empted me.

‘In return,’ she said, ‘he has my personal assurance that no one will touch him. I’ve already spoken to my SSP in Sectorpur. He’s willing to let the scent go cold as long as this trainer fellow of yours doesn’t give us any trouble while the investigation is under way.’

Jorbagh was a gated colony. The driver had not left its confines, but had driven us around its residential parks, circled the market, entered a nether region with fewer street lights and was heading back in Sanyogita’s direction. I could see now what Chamunda was asking me to stand as a guarantor for. And it was harder to gauge than the question of Aakash’s innocence. What she wanted to know was – innocent or not – would Aakash remain loyal despite the power he would hold over her? It was of course the one thing about Aakash that I had never been able to determine myself. But I took my chances, knowing Chamunda wouldn’t be taking hers without some greater precaution in hand than my word.

‘I think so, yes,’ I answered.

‘Good,’ she said, then added a second later, ‘I’ll need you to go, you know?’

‘To the safe house?’

‘To keep him on side.’ Smiling, she added, ‘Informed regularly of the advantages of doing so.’ Then adjusting her tone from business to business with a personal touch, she said, ‘I’m glad you came to me, baba. You know I know how sound your judgement is. If your man runs into trouble in my state, you must tell me. It’s your duty as my nephew.’

Just as we were about to turn into the U-shaped lane my phone rang.

‘Baby, hi. I was just -’

‘You’re with Chamunda,’ Sanyogita said, her voice thick with agitation.

‘I was -’

‘Please don’t fucking lie to me. The chowkidar told me she picked you up.’

‘I’m not lying. I just -’

‘You are fucking lying!’ Sanyogita screamed loudly enough for Chamunda to hear. ‘Saving your friend,’ she sobbed.

Chamunda looked gravely at me. I could hear her mind change gear, and that feminine genius that could power many intelligences at the same time understood what was happening. ‘Take another round,’ she said to the driver, then sternly to me, ‘Give me the phone.’

Already on the other end the voice had broken down. Cries of anger and despair containing the build-up of months – ‘Saving my aunt, saving your friend, saving everyone?’ yelled again and again – filled the car. Chamunda held the phone in her lap, its blue light seeming to blaze in the gloom of the car. Only when the voice had tired did she begin.

They spoke for only a few minutes. Chamunda repeated Sparky’s rationale, then added to it her own plan, plus an offer that surprised me: ‘I think you both should go… Yes, yes… Yes, go and stay. It’s a very nice place, very comfortable; Ra decorated it. There’s even a gym. I want you to go. You’ll be helping me by going.’

I looked at Chamunda in confusion; she patted the air with her hand as if to say, ‘I know what I’m doing.’

‘I agree with you, darling. You want to see justice done; so do I. But if we keep him in prison, he’ll slip out of our hands. So I’m saying go there…

‘No,’ Chamunda said firmly, as if having encountered fresh dissent. ‘Aatish will go no matter what. Now it’s up to you whether you want to join him or not.’

I looked nervously up at Chamunda, but she seemed to have forced her way through. ‘Absolutely,’ she said now. ‘You know I’ve always wanted you to fill my shoes. I’ll stop by myself tomorrow and we’ll work out a plan. Now stop crying, darling. We’re two seconds away. Go and pack a bag.’

Chamunda’s preparations had been so complete that even the car I had thought was her escort turned out to be our escort to the safe house. Now, as we waited outside Sanyogita’s, Chamunda asked as if in an afterthought, ‘Your friend, how long had he been with this girl?’

‘Chamunda massi,’ I said, weighing up my options, ‘he married her almost six months ago.’

A deep silence followed.

‘That’s very good,’ she murmured cautiously, ‘very good. Baba, it’s all going to be fine. I want you to leave right away. Your friend will be there before you arrive. And,’ she added, looking up, ‘take care of Sanyogita. She’s very emotional right now.’

Sanyogita was walking down the drive in tracksuit bottoms and rabbit-faced slippers. Her head was cocked to one side; she held a small bag in one hand. Her distress was such that for a second she didn’t even realize that we had pulled up in front of the house. She was cold but polite to Chamunda. To me she said bitterly, ‘I’ll never forget this. Never. No one has ever made me feel so worthless before.’