Mysterious Neighbours

One of the many rituals associated with shifting a house is the big fat house warming which eats into your hectic schedule and your budget. My small family consisting of my gregarious husband and my hyperactive, eight  year old son moved into our three bed room flat in North Bangalore, a couple of months ago. The guest list, in spite of the ‘trimming’ went a little over three hundred. I had been preparing for the much waited day, three months prior to the event but the day melted away quickly. Greeting all the guests, hospitality and the small talk comes naturally to my husband. But my son ‘Nikhil’ and I who are pathetic at managing people, found it a tiresome day. Well! Atleast the more exhaustive, house hunting was over.

Other than being in a prime locality and commuting time to office being less than 5 minutes, the house had appealed to us for another reason. It was situated adjoining a vast estate filled with trees. This would ensure that our kitchen and rooms facing the estate would get abundant light and fresh air. I had heard that it belonged to a real estate baron. My kitchen overlooked the outhouse in the estate and a beautiful garden adorned it. The bungalow in the centre of the huge land was a magnificent creation of contemporary architecture. But it was characterized by loneliness and silence. No one in the nearby houses knew who lived there.

Since the time I had first come to see the house I had liked Sandhya, my neighbor at #302. Now it had become a routine to talk to each other soon after ‘packing away’ the kids and the spouses. We would also meet at the walking park in the evening where the ladies of the apartment would take a walk before engaging themselves in the usual ‘gossip’.  Being health conscious, I usually took four rounds of the park before exchanging pleasantries with the ladies and returning home to cooking and my son’s home work.

That evening after my walk I sat down with the ladies as I was tired to go any further. The topic under discussion was that of the estate.

“Haven’t you heard the noises from that house Rama?”  Lakshmi asked me.

“I did hear a man’s voice but was too busy packing lunch boxes. So I didn’t pay any attention” I replied.

“Sandhya’s and your apartment directly overlook the outhouse. Sandhya keeps hearing a man yelling at his wife. Didn’t you mention it to her Sandhya?”,Prema remarked.

“No. It just slipped out of my mind”, the quiet Sandhya said. She was not very comfortable with some of the ladies.

The discussion went on regarding the estate; its inhabitants- a middle aged man and his wife, strange noises and so on. Some even expressed their farfetched ideas of the mansion being haunted. I returned home late that day and my son was happily gazing away at the television. I persuaded him to finish his homework and then we finished an early dinner. I had put my son to sleep and was washing away the dishes when I first heard her voice. What I heard were not words, but a cry of pain. A man’s rude and angry voice followed “How many times do I have to tell you not to call your parents here. What will they think about me? You wicked woman! If you ever call them again I will lock you up in here forever. “

I heard a door close with a bang and then continuous weeping for the next five minutes until the door opened and closed again, this time more quietly.

“Rama, can you please get me a glass of water. I think I should sleep now. My laptop seems to be hung.” My husband’s voice revoked me back to my house.  That night I had a disturbed sleep.

The following afternoon, I discussed the matter with Sandhya. ‘Even I felt the same when I heard the voices for the first time. Don’t worry, some family matters I suppose. But I really feel sad for that poor woman. Her husband abuses her so much’ she said.

‘Have you ever seen that woman?” I asked curiously.

‘No but I have seen that man drive out of the mansion several times. He always wears sunglasses and seems to be a well built and dressed man from an elite family, in his mid thirties. Ok Rama I have to go. Rishab will be coming back from school. Bye’ she said and walked away towards the gate and I went back to my daily chores. Eventually the incident slipped out of my mind.

Summer was nearing and it was a hectic schedule as exams were nearing. I used to stay up late at night to prepare notes and questions to help my son with his exams. It was about 11.30 pm when I heard the voices again.

“You are just good for nothing. You can’t even serve the guests properly”, the man shouted.

“I will serve everything but alcohol “she replied feebly.

“How dare you refuse? You better do as I say” he shouted.

I heard a slap and thump and finally a yell and the loud thud of a slamming door. All the while, I could imagine the scene and my heart wrenched in pain at the thought of the woman being abused. I was fuming with anger but was helpless. Why doesn’t the woman reach out for help or run away? I thought.

The next day I got busy with my schedule but the voices kept repeating themselves in my mind. That night I slept early as I didn’t want to hear the voices again.

“You disgusting woman, I will punish you today. Your body will be bruised with the burns.”

I woke up startled. Was I dreaming? I rubbed my eyes and looked at the wall clock – 3 a.m. I went to the kitchen to drink water. Then I heard it, a loud shriek and then continuous weeping. But the yell was that of the man. “I am sorry. You left me with no choice. I will surrender to the police tomorrow”, the woman’s faint voice emanated from the outhouse and seeped into my kitchen window. I was shocked, as if someone had stabbed me. I couldn’t go back to sleep. At 5.00 a.m. I decided to wake my husband and narrate all that I had experienced.

I went to our bedroom and woke him up and narrated all the experiences I had had with the mysterious mansion, without missing the finest detail.

“Are you hallucinating?” he replied and looked at me sympathetically.

“No, I am not. For God’s sake Aravind, I thought at least you would trust me. If you are not convinced ask Sandhya and Lakshmi aunty. They have been hearing the voices since the past two years.

“Of course I trust you Rama, but I just don’t want us to get into to any kind of trouble. Think of Nikhil. He is too small to handle these issues. I know it is easier said than done but please ignore this and try to forget whatever has happened.  For Nikhil’s sake”, my husband replied holding my hands.

“Of course I will,” I said and returned to the preparations of the morning marathon of packing lunch boxes, preparing breakfast, getting Nikhil ready for school.

That afternoon I met Sandhya and narrated whatever I heard.

“Oh my God! She killed him? Let’s check the news for the next two days. If she surrenders then this is surely going to be the topic of discussion on all news channels for at least a week”, said Sandhya.

“You are right”, I replied and we both went back and kept our televisions sets tuned to the news channels for the next two days. I scanned almost every newspaper for any news about the murder in the mansion, a title I had fancied, but had not found any news.

“I think she changed her mind and buried the body somewhere in the huge estate” Sandhya voiced her thoughts.

“Even I thought so. It has been almost a week but no news of any murder and most importantly no voices from the outhouse.“,I replied.

“Well the positive part is that we got rid of those voices. They almost haunted me. In a way I am glad the woman does not have to endure any more abuse. I can’t believe women are still ill-treated to that extent”, Sandhya said firmly.

“I agree with you. I too am relieved that I won’t have to hear those voices again”, I replied.

Sandhya and I were on our way to the market and were waiting to cross the road when an SUV drove past us. We both looked at each other immediately and our faces mirrored the same expression ‘shock’.

“That man is alive? He was certainly the one from the estate but who was that woman who was dressed in that elegant gown and was talking to him so amiably?” Sandhya asked.

“I have never seen her before. How strange? I thought he was dead”, I answered.

“She may be his mistress. I had heard voices of his wife complaining of his affairs”, Sandhya said thoughtfully.

“Poor woman, did they both get rid of her? Oh my God! That explains why the noises stopped. It was his mistress who killed his wife and then wept is it? But I thought I heard the shriek of a man”, I said.

“It is all very queer. But I think we should try to get this out of our minds and not interfere as we might land in trouble if we do so. These people are capable of doing the worst”, Sandhya warned.

I nodded in agreement and we completed our otherwise exciting task of shopping like a routine job. The thoughts of the voices lingered in our minds for the next few days and would also dominate our mid-day discussions. But the mysterious voices had vanished and we hadn’t spotted the SUV or the estate dwellers either.

A week later I sat down with my morning coffee after sending away Nikhil and my husband. It was my daily ritual to read the newspaper sipping away my coffee. A particular advertisement in the theatre section caught my attention. The photos of the lead artists, the man from the estate and his ‘mistress’ as we assumed, quenched all my curiosity regarding the mysterious voices from the estate. It read :

Play on Domestic Violence at RangaShankara

Lead artists: Mr. Manish Tiwari

Mrs. Esha Tiwari

The play has been running successfully since the past two weeks in Chennai and Mumbai and now they are in Bangalore. Grab your tickets before they get sold out…