Helen Goes for Mr. Sunday

Who is Mr. Sunday?: Part 4

Helen opened the wardrobe.

"Don't touch my clothes," warned Pankhuri.

Helen shuffled through the neatly ironed sets of clothes. 

Pankhuri looked up at her nervously. "You idiot, why are you fiddling with my clothes?!"

Helen carefully held a neatly folded set of burka and took it out. 

"Keep that right back!" said Pankhuri.

"I'm giving you a chance to be useful; be grateful"

"What?!"

Helen started putting the burka on.

"I'm wearing that at work tomorrow!"

"Wear another one"

Pankhuri sprang to her feet.

"Sit right down," commanded Helen. "If you leave this room before I return, I'll screw you."

"What do you mean?"

"If you leave this room before I return, I'll screw you," Helen repeated coldly.

Pankhuri's shoulders slumped. "When are you moving out of this room? You have been too much of a nuisance already."

Helen ignored her.

"You have been waking up in a cold sweateach night, screaming at the top of your voice."

"Nightmares."

"Yes, but why should I suffer?"

"I'm leaving. Stay put right here."

"It's only four-thirty p.m. How long will you be?"

"Don't know"

"Wait!" said Pankhuri, her mouth slackening. "If you go out in a burka, and I don't leave the room, people will think you are in the room, and I'm the one in the burka!"

Helen blew her a flying kiss and left the room.

After leaving the hospital premises, Helen boarded a city-transport bus to the Dadar T.T. bus stand and then boarded a state-transport bus slated to go to Miraghar. The journey took around two hours. After alighting from the bus, she started walking on the same road where the incident with Machhi and Bhau had happened a few nights earlier. After passing through a labyrinth of narrow alleys, she came upon a drama theater. She entered the building, and walked up to the ticket counter. The ticket counter was empty. She looked around the reception area. A teenage boy who was manning the food and drinks counter walked up to her.

"Yes, madam, what can I do for you?" said the boy.

"I want to see Vinay Nair," said Helen.

"Isn't that the new actor?" said the boy. "He is currently performing his first play."

"Ok, I'll buy a ticket then."

"But the play will soon get over."

"That's all right. I'd still like to buy it," said Helen.

The boy scratched at his temple. "The guy who mans this counter is inside watching the trial. Please wait here, and I'll go fetch him," said the boy.

Helen nodded.

The boy entered through one of the gates that opened to the auditorium area and returned with a man sporting a curled-up mustache. It was Machhi.

Helen instinctively recoiled.

"My handsomeness does have that effect on people" said Machhi mischievously, taking a seat at the counter, trying to see through Helen's burka.

"I want to talk to Vinay Nair," said Helen imitating a manly voice. Machhi seemed a bit surprised at the voice. From across the room, the boy manning the food and drinks counter looked up to stare at Helen.

"Ah, but he is currently performing on stage. Why don't you talk to Machhindra Patil until then?" said Machhi with a broad smile.

Helen did not react.

Machhi drew a set of short, conspicuous breaths.

"Say, have we met before? You smell kind of familiar"

Helen gasped, instinctively taking a step back.

Machhi seemed lost in thought. "Let's see. When was the last time I smelled that deo?"

"Try that with someone else," riposted Helen. "Just sell me a ticket. Come on, hurry up," she continued, knocking at the glass wall of the ticket counter.

Machhi flashed another smile.

"Well, the play is about to get over in fifteen minutes. Moreover, it's a rather Hindu type of play, and if you walk in right now, there's going to be all sorts of Sanskrit shit going on. You'll get bored. Let's chat, and once the play is over, I'll personally take you backstage," said Machhi.

"Listen..." said Helen.

"You are lucky to have bumped into me," cut in Machhi. "I'm a most chivalrous man. As you just saw, I was watching the play myself, but only for you, I have changed my plans."

"Look..." said Helen, looking irritated.

"Chhotu, get didi a cold drink!" Machhi shouted to the teenage boy.

Helen thrust her hand through the hole in the glass wall and grabbed what appeared to be a roll of unsold tickets.

"Enough of your bullshit. Get me a ticket, or I'm just walking in," thundered Helen.

Machhi flashed another wide grin.

"Okay, don't be angry. Let's get you a ticket. Two hundred and fifty rupees," said Machhi, tearing out a random ticket from the roll.

Helen plucked out a couple of notes from her purse and slapped them onto the counter through the hole in the glass wall. Machhi stamped the ticket and held it out, covering most of it in his palms. Without touching Machhi's hand, Helen gripped the small part of the ticket that jutted out, with her nails, wrested it, and stormed off toward the entrance of the auditorium.

"Say, has Vinay called you for an audition?" asked Machhi.

Helen proceeded to enter through the entrance leading to the auditorium. The drama theater was around half full, with the attendance concentrated around the front half. Helen stopped near the row of seats near the entrance and looked in the direction of the stage, which was on the far end. The stage was occupied by two actors. One was a handsome young actor lying on what appeared to be a hospital bed, with a saline and a lot of medical equipment connected to him and the other was an old actor, dressed up as a Hindu deity. There was a faded cloth for the backdrop that was filled with images of clouds.

"yat chakshuh devahitam purastaat shukram uchcharat," spoke the young actor with clear, confident diction. "Pashyema sharadaha shatam; jivem sharadah shatam; shatam shrinuyaam sharadah shatam; pabravaam sharadah shatam; deenaah syaam sharadah shatam; bhuyaash cha sharadah shatat."

"And then Anirban said to Sun God, O the God who appears in the east and is most revered and affectionate eye of the Gods," spoke an invisible voice-over artist, interpreting the Sanskrit verse. "With your grace I may live for a hundred years on the earth; see a hundred years; listen for a hundred years; spend a hundred years without worries or poverty; and witness a hundred winters."

"I told you this play is full of all this Sanskrit shit," whispered a voice in the darkness.

Helen flinched with a start. Machhi had crept up on her.