The corner most row house in the housing complex had been lying vacant for quite some time. People were baffled by the rent the house owner quoted for it. It was not palatial but was an independent bungalow lying nestled amidst the numerous flats in the housing society. It was close to the security booth near the main gate. The backyard of the house had a large space which was close to the gate. The front end was on the inner end of the housing complex.One day, a young man, a local Politician moved into the house with his wife and two school-going kids. The man was middle-aged, dark, not very tall, he sported a beard and had long hair that fell on his shoulders. The lady was slender, slim and young-looking. They had a daughter who seemed twelve years old and his son nearly sixteen. They attended an English medium school whose school bus picked them on the road just beyond the main gate.
The man drove a black Scorpio car and parked it inside the row house. Each day numerous people came to attend on him. The man and the lady did not need to do anything. We had not noticed any of these activities until the day, my maid looked through the window and exclaimed, ‘Did you notice the man who lives in the first-row house?’ I looked at her and asked, Who is he? She said, ‘He used to live in his bungalow which is near our house, he has his photograph on the rear of the car’. A distant view showed us a poster and lots of information in Marathi.
I exclaimed, ‘Why is he here then? She said, ‘We do not get lots of water in our area’.
The black car with the Politician’s poster on the rear was extremely busy, it was usually parked outside the house. Within a couple of months, a second black Scorpio car with the Politician’s poster got added to their possessions. He would park both these cars inside the gate of the row house occasionally. The second car would be midway and the poster of his was assumed to be grinning awkwardly at the passers-by. The cars were out in the day and brought lots of things. From meagre furnishings, they grew to have great luxuries. The man wore skimpy shorts and a T-shirt and walk with heavy steps in the Housing Society, he often wore a few gold chains thrown carelessly across his neck like Bappi Lahri, the singer. He started sporting a beard and left his hair loosely hung on his shoulders.
He usually came out of the house for his morning walks when the children in the housing complex would be rushing to catch their school bus. That was also a time when most of us left for work. He would walk in the small space that ran around the flats with his headphones and a pasted smile. Many of the educated men would greet him affectionately. He would smile back in glee. He would pet toddlers and try to talk to them, but their mothers were often in a hurry to rush back to their household chores. At home, we named him Malaya for the sake of convenience as we did not know his name for months. He resembled Vijay Malaya in his opulence and hairstyle, but he lacked the well-needed suaveness.
As time flew, there were two more new white cars bought. These did not have the posters on the rear but the cars were parked in the visitors parking area. One of the cars was driven by the Politician’s young son. The narrow lane got filled with the Politician’s cars. His guests came in their cars and they would park the cars almost everywhere. The security guard would protest when we tried parking our cars anywhere else. The society had hurled a notice asking the members not to purchase a second car but the Politician wasn’t included in the warnings. We would ask the guard in annoyance to inform the Politician to move his cars but the guard would wave his head in denial.
“He is a Politician’ the guard would whisper proudly and walk away with a positive demeanour.
The Politician’s house was equipped with new comforts, his wife sat on a covered garden bench placed on the tiled path of the house. They had a Siamese cat as a pet. The Politician had begun his morning walks with the Siamese cat in his arms. The cat would scuffle and jump out of his hand but always reach home. We would fear running over the cat as the Politician walked at the busiest time in the morning.
One day, we saw the Politician covered in gold. He had stout bracelets made of gold and he wore many more gold chains till it covered his chest and paunch. He seemed to be fairer. We saw a junior Politician in blue wearing lots of gold just like the Politician. It was his son who was initiated into Youth Politics. It was perhaps a dream come true for a father. That day their house saw hundreds of people. Food and wine flowed liberally with loud music late in the night. This celebration was almost like the numerous noisy celebrations they have had. Festival celebrations often began late for them and the festival of lights saw the noisiest crackers. The harsh noise did have an impact and the ones who woke up the next morning were indeed blessed to have sustained the noise.
Many times we saw the billboards on the street squares displaying the godly images of the Politician and his family, it was also a dominance of the political parties. Some called him Baba, others called him Abba and many other names but their day to day duties were covered by numerous people. There were maids, the clothes were ironed by the local people. Every 25th the shops in the area were not allowed to operate. People said that was a political order of the godly Politicians.
When the Pandemic COVID 19 visited Pune, it slowed down lives. No one went out and the walks were very early in the morning. The Politician seemed to be whiling his time on the covered bench in his house. He would play with the Siamese cat and walk in the campus. There were no headphones used but the phone would blare Lord Ganesha’s songs and spiritual discourses. One could hear these in the kitchen. I would pray God more spiritedly to bring us out of this Pandemic to escape the noise pollution.
The clothes in the Politician’s house were washed by maids but they were hung on the compound wall. The house lacked modern clothesline. Months flew by and we started regaining normalcy soon. We hardly saw the Politician wear a mask. His wife was constantly on the phone and very soon we saw another hoarding showing her as a political head for women. There was lots of food being brought home making us wonder whether the owner would ever get his house back as they had settled down all the more comfortably.
A few days ago a small tempo came and made numerous rounds and carried their furniture and goods. We wondered what was going on. The security guard said the Politician had built his own house and that he possessed a lot of land in the area. The couple came a few days later and got the house cleaned by the society’s trash picker. Work was perhaps done freely for the Politician, the shifting and settling all happened within hours. This Diwali the house remained forlorn, quiet and dark. There wasn’t a lot of noise from the crackers. Our neighbour the Politician had left the housing society.
“You didn’t need brains to hold office; you only needed votes.”― Linwood Barclay,
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