Rita Nath Keshari

Finders Keepers

Dr. Manohar, a psychiatrist by profession, always took off his spectacles slowly and focused his attention on the patient even more tardily.  Mrs. Nirmala, a clinical psychologist and his assistant, was almost repelled by his lethargic movements.  She felt that he should be brisk, even a little pert, to coax the truth out of his patients.  Dr. Manohar appeared aged and exhausted before his thirty year old assistant.  
Nirmala’s husband, Shyam Kumar, teased her about her fastidious attitudes towards her fifty plus boss, “At this rate your clinic’s reputation will suffer.  Can’t you overlook his gauche gestures and be more compatible?  Remember he is a widower”.  Nirmala would give him a sharp tap on the shoulder and reply, “His bleary-eyed appearance sure has charmed you”. 
Every Friday morning Mr. Muralidhar Joshi, a patient, would arrive for the therapy sessions.  “Doctor Saab”, he would begin to whine, “of what use are tranquillizers when there has been marital discord for nearly thirty years.  I tell my wife to enjoy life.  Our daughters have been married off to their rich boyfriends and they are happy householders now.  Even their examples have no effect on her.  She makes life hellish for me moping for a man, from her college days, who did not marry her”. 
Nirmala knew that Mr. Joshi’s therapy sessions had begun long before she joined this clinic.  In spite of his prolonged and almost ineffective treatment Mr. Joshi did not lose his faith in Dr. Manohar. 
“You have helped me to lower my stress levels.  You see, I had kept a mistress or two at various points of my conjugal life just to knock some sense into my wife.  Somehow she saw through this ruse and mounted her attacks more fiercely”, he confessed. Nirmala suppressed a smile while this man unburdened himself.  She would even hide her face in the files and giggle.  Dr. Manohar thought of her reactions as flippant.   
Mr. Joshi would ignore her and ask, “Doctor Saab, don’t you feel the need for a companion, since you are a widower?  Your only son has settled abroad and it must be very lonely for you”. 
Dr. Manohar’s coy reply would follow, “I too had failed to marry my college sweetheart and my wife made my life traumatic.  She never forgave me for this single romance in my life.  Please do not grudge me the joy of my solitary existence after all these years”. 
Nirmala asked hesitantly this time, “Now that you are a widower, don’t you feel like tracing out your college sweetheart?  She too could be free at this stage of life”.  The doctor shook his head and said, “A relationship that has no future can only cause pain in the long run.  Moreover, I, who counsel people about healthy marriages, cannot indulge in extra marital affairs”. 
Nirmala’s husband Shyam Kumar did not approve of her interest in the elderly men’s affairs.  Snorting at them he would say, “After all, what fun can they have at this age?  They will, in all probability, discuss arthritic problems and grandchildren. In that case their so-called illicit affair would be tamer than a drawing – room conversation”. 
This placid state of affairs did not last long because Nirmala’s landlord served her a notice for vacating the premises within a month.  The young couple began their hunt for affordable shelter in earnest.  One morning they strayed near a very posh area and Shyam Kumar commented, “These rich bungalow owners may unleash their dogs on us.  Let us turn back and see the high- rise apartments in the adjoining colony…”  Before he could finish she screamed out, “Muralidhar Joshi”. 
“Must you refer to that fuddy-duddy repeatedly?”  Shyam Kumar nearly screamed. “No, you dimwit, look at that “to-let” notice hanging at the main gate.  If this is the same Joshi who is Dr. Manohar’s patient then we stand a good chance of becoming his tenants” Nirmala did not realise that she had raised her voice.  The optimistic house hunters demurely walked into the house.  Since Mr. Joshi was not at home his wife received them in her spacious drawing room with French windows opening to a small but pretty lawn bordered with seasonal flowers.  Nirmala, seeing Mr. Joshi’s photograph on the wall, was about to disclose her familiarity with him but Shyam Kumar glared at her.   
Suddenly it struck her that Mrs. Joshi may be ignorant of her husband’s therapeutic sessions.  Even if she were aware of everything she would not feel flattered being reminded of it.   Mrs. Joshi’s beautiful face confused Nirmala even further.  A soft-spoken and graceful person like her seemed incapable of upbraiding a servant.  Nirmala did not mention her profession for fear of intimidating her prospective landlady. 
Within a week’s time the young couple occupied the second floor of Mr. Joshi’s house as their new tenants.  In spite of the water problem Nirmala and Shyam Kumar settled down comfortably.  They loved the open terrace on the second floor, the pretty lawn below and the quiet tree-lined avenue stretching ahead.  The house reflected the refined taste of Mrs. Joshi.  Moreover she allowed them to receive guests staying overnight provided there was no bacchanalia.  This last advantage made Shyam Kumar think of Dr. Manohar. 
“Why don’t we invite the old boy over during the week-end?  He will definitely bring over a bottle of Chivas Regal”. “How mean of you”, his wife retorted sharply.  However, the slouching figure of Dr. Manohar in the clinic made her ponder about her husband’s suggestion.  First, she confirmed Mr. Joshi’s weekend trip and consequent absence in the house. 
Dr. Manohar accepted the invitation grudgingly because at their last get-together Shyam Kumar had guzzled down a whole bottle of champagne.  “I will get only a box from the local sweet vendor’s shop,” the psychiatrist threatened her. 
The dinner went off well.  Dr. Manohar almost cheered up at the sight of the food on the table.  He did not mind a mug of chilled beer and commented wryly, “this is ideal for hot summer nights”. 
After dinner, as the host and guest were going down the stairs they saw Mrs. Joshi at the first floor balcony.  The lonely landlady looked at the doctor and he returned her stare.  Even in the dim light Shyam Kumar could see that she was startled and she seemed to draw back seeking shelter, as though her vulnerability had been exposed.  Dr. Manohar was transfixed to the spot.  Shyam Kumar watched the scene.  The doctor whispered inaudibly, “Rehana, you ….?” She looked too dazed to respond.  After a few minutes she rushed swiftly towards her room and disappeared inside. The two men were dumbfounded but Shyam Kumar wondered as to how the doctor knew her first name. 
‘Was she Dr. Manohar’s patient before Nirmala became his assistant?  Was she afraid that the doctor would spill the beans?  Is this the reason why she chose to conceal herself immediately?’  As these questions knocked against his beer-soaked mind he feared being evicted from the house. 
The next morning Shyam Kumar offered to help out the landlady, “Auntie, shall I get you vegetables from the market?  Buying from the vendor at your doorstep can be quite expensive”. 
Mrs. Joshi replied indifferently that she would rather buy from the vendor because it is a regular arrangement.  She turned towards the book in her hand and her beautiful profile did not reveal the cause of her strange behaviour the previous night.  Feeling petulant, Shyam Kumar returned to his rooms and lay down flat in bed.  The last thing he wanted to contemplate on a Sunday morning was the landlady’s intentions.  Even then thoughts buzzed in his head, ‘She wants to hide that she was Dr. Manohar’s patient.  Even the shrink himself was shocked to see her.  This is a family of lunatics.  It would be better to find accommodation elsewhere’.   
After a month or so, Nirmala gave her husband an interesting piece of news.  “Do you know what’s happening?  Dr. Manohar has changed beyond recognition.  He looks dapper even at eight in the evening.  He has a smart pair of rimless spectacles and uses imported deodorants”, she chattered on.  Then dropping her voice she whispered conspiratorially, “Mr. Joshi also seems cheerful.  It seems his wife is well-behaved and their marriage has struck the perfect chord.  He does not know that Dr. Manohar had dinner with us that night.  I promised Mr. Joshi that we would never divulge about his treatment”.  Shyam Kumar turned his face to hide his relief. As long as they could continue as tenants the private lives of the trio did not matter to him.  Shyam Kumar felt so elated that he dragged Nirmala out for an evening stroll.  “When did we last walk together hand in hand with only the moon as a jealous rival?”  Shyam Kumar pinched her cheek lightly. 
They were sauntering up the road when they heard suppressed giggles floating out from a dark by-lane.  Both of them ignored the amorous couple, sheltered by the dark night, and pushed ahead.  They halted suddenly as they saw a familiar car.  “Isn’t this the car which Dr. Manohar uses for his week-end trips to the club?  In fact, his late wife used to drive this car and, purely for this sentimental reason, he refused to sell it to me.  I wonder if he has secretly sold it off to someone else for a better price”, Shyam Kumar poured out his feelings.  Nirmala snapped back at him, “Do you know how late it is?  The old man will lock the main gate and I don’t want a scene then”. 
As they approached the house they were surprised to see Mr. Joshi frantically pacing up and down.  “My wife has gone to visit her sister.  I don’t know why she is late.  I wonder whether I should ring her up,” he sounded worried. 
“Don’t worry, sir, when two sisters meet they don’t feel like parting.  By the way, I have run out of cigarettes.  Would you mind if I quickly get a packet from the shop at the corner now.  I won’t be long”.  Before they could react, Shyam Kumar was gone. 
Mr. Joshi saw this as an opportunity to talk about more private matters to Nirmala.  “My stress level is back to normal.  My wife’s socialising habit has cured her of her acrimony and belligerence.  If only she had done this twenty years ago…” the old man’s voice trailed off.  “Here they come”, Mr. Joshi cried out.  Nirmala was surprised to see both the landlady and the tenant laugh loudly challenging the silence of the neighbourhood. 
The next morning Nirmala had another surprise waiting for her.  Dr. Manohar quipped.  “If I twist your name Nirmala then it sounds as normal”.  She giggled and added, “It is wonderful to see you jovial and reinvigorated.  By the way, if we juggle with the name Shyam then it sounds as shame”. 
Dr. Manohar laughed and thumped his table, “There lies the rub, as Hamlet in Shakespeare’s play had said.  This is the paradox of existence, my dear girl.  We can be our true and normal selves only if we can discard the sense of shame dumped on us by society.  Once guilt starts dogging us…”  He could not finish his statement as he saw Mr. Joshi enter the room.  “Good morning, sir.  Today’s not Friday so how come you are here?  Or do you need urgent treatment?”  Dr. Manohar was really taken aback. 
“Treatment?  I am as fit as a fiddle.  I am on my way to the club.  After a game of cards I’ll have a sumptuous lunch.  I want to celebrate the new-found peace in my life”, Mr. Joshi stretched himself languorously.  “By the way, I think I am well enough to be on my own now,” the happy husband twirled his moustache and left the clinic. 
As soon as Mr. Joshi started his car Dr. Manohar called Nirmala to his side and instructed her, “We can’t let this Joshi fellow be on his own.  Follow him to the club and keep an eye on him.  I’ll ring up the manager and tell him to entertain you in style.  Go ahead, combine pleasure with business”. 
As Nirmala leaned back in the cab she closed her eyes for a quick snooze.  Projected on to her mind’s screen was the image of Mrs. Joshi driving that car which she and her husband had seen during their stroll that night.  Nirmala mumbled to herself, “Dr. Manohar’s wife’s ghost will push Mrs. Joshi out of that car”.  Once Nirmala reached the club she liked its ambience and thanked Dr. Manohar for his overcautious attitudes.  After two hours Nirmala felt rather bored and fidgety about her spying.  She rang up the clinic but nobody picked up the phone.  She dialed Dr. Manohar’s cellular mobile phone’s number but it was engaged.  After several unsuccessful attempts at contacting the clinic she decided to go directly to the clinic and submit the day’s report. 
When she reached the clinic, she was shocked to find that it was bolted from inside.  A notice, informing that the clinic was closed for the day, was hung from the doorknob.  “Oh, no! My jute shopping bag is inside.  Picking up the grocery in polythene bags can be so inconvenient.  Is the doctor  ill or something?  Should I ring up his residential number and find out?”  Nirmala groaned audibly.   
Suddenly she heard a cackling sound right behind her.  Mr. Joshi began guffawing as she looked dumbfounded at him.  “You shrinks think you can outsmart a businessman like me, isn’t it?  Don’t think I am ignorant of your moves. When my wife declared peace out of the blue I grew suspicious about this sea-change in her.  Lovers and criminals, however seasoned they are, always leave clues behind.  My wife was no exception.  I found out soon enough the cause of her guilt and her efforts to appear normal”, Mr. Joshi looked triumphant.  The victim had turned into a victor!  Nirmala groped hard for an answer then suddenly the closed gate of the clinic provided her with one. 
“The college sweetheart!” was all that she could exclaim about.  The wronged husband chuckled to himself and said, “No hard feelings! I hardly mind my wife’s infidelity because it has restored peace in my life.  Please keep my sessions in this clinic a secret.  If she comes to know she will lapse into aggressive behaviour again. That shrink should keep quiet because he is under oath”. 
Suddenly Nirmala saw her familiar world crumble round her.  She wondered about her own future and the inadequacy of her profession to find suitable answers to chronic psychological problems.  Finally she found her voice, “We will keep perfectly silent provided you let us stay in your house for as long as we wish.  No comprise about this!” 
Mr. Joshi’s face fell as he whimpered, “What a bargain! Next you will ask me to get you the membership of my elite club”. Nirmala replied, “Well, this is normal.  If you are cured by unusual circumstances then I have no shame in driving home my point.  You see, a balance has to be maintained”. 

Mr. Joshi offered her a lift home and Nirmala relaxed on the back seat.  She saw the city speed by, or was it her own life?