Helen Goes for Mr. Sunday

The Evening That Changed Everything: Part 1

The most prominent structure in sight was an old-style but exceptionally well-maintained mansion with a huge board that said "Bhoir Mansion." The visible part of the garishly illuminated building rose above a heavily fenced security wall and stood out conspicuously against the backdrop of a sky that was left to gray by the withdrawing sun. The whole area was shrouded in a giant, invisible bubble whose atmosphere was taut and pregnant with an unplaceable foreboding.

The young woman started taking forceful strides toward the mansion--her bountifully endowed frame undulating--almost as if she were expecting to encounter resistance from the invisible balloon, but her gait remained consistent through her walk, and she reached the public drinking-water tank attached to the wall next to the gate of the mansion. The tank had the words "Courtesy Ekveera Sena chief Vidya ji Bhoir" engraved on it. The woman made a face and looked around.

There was a massive political hoarding put up on the opposite side of the mansion; in the left half of the hoarding was the picture of an Indian goddess wearing a crown and a large red bindi, and in the right half was the picture of a heavily built lady with "Vote for Vidya ji Bhoir" written in large letters underneath it. The street was fraught with a number of small-sized flags bearing golden-colored party emblems, strung together using high wires tied to pairs of lampposts facing each other. The flags fluttered in the cold and dusty evening breeze. Scores of armed police personnel and private security guards scampered about, shouting instructions into their crackling walkie-talkies.

The young woman reached inside her purse and took out a pocket mirror, a few cotton pads, and some bottles, and laid them out on the basin of the water tank. A middle-aged security guard stationed at the gate fixed his gaze on her.

The woman opened the tap, rinsed her face, pulled out a handkerchief from her jeans pocket, and dried her face. The guard's brows drew together.

The woman then dipped a cotton pad in a liquid and took off her eye make-up. She held up the mirror and examined her face.

"Excuse me!" the guard called out, taking half a step in her direction.

The woman smeared a few drops of moisturizer onto her face and started spreading it. The guard started walking toward her.

The woman took another cotton pad, poured some toner on it, and rubbed it across her face.

"This water is for drinking only. You aren't supposed to do your makeup here," the guard grumbled.

Rinsing her face, the woman dabbed some cream on her face and massaged it into her skin.

"Didn't you hear me?" said the guard, visibly piqued.

The woman surveyed the mirror again. The guard frowned. "I said, didn't you hear me?"

The woman started walking in the direction of a hefty policewoman standing in a nearby corner. The policewoman had a massive mole on her left cheek, held a cane in her right hand, and stood with a slight, comfortable slouch.

"Do you have an appointment? Bhoir madam isn't meeting any new college students until the elections are over," the guard said, following the young woman. Both reached the policewoman.

"Open the gate," the young woman ordered the policewoman.

The policewoman surveyed her with steady, cautious eyes, and then stole a glance at the guard, who shrugged slightly.

"And you are Bhoir madam's...?" the policewoman asked carefully.

The young woman rolled her eyes. "I'm not related to Vidya, nor do I have an appointment with her. Now open the gate."