The Darya Nandkarni Misadventures Omnibus: Books 1-3

by Smita Bhattacharya

  ‘This is crazy,’ Aaron mumbled. His eyes surveyed the walls, the fountain, the chandelier, the mural, the food.

  Darya turned to give him a sweet smile. ‘The crazy's just starting,’ she said.

  ‘Are there drugs and stuff?’ Vidisha asked, her voice suffused with hope.

  ‘No,’ Darya said briskly, pulling them along. ‘But you're still going to have the time of your life.’

  She led them to the chairs and asked them to sit. Kamble handed over two plastic cups of wine. They took it quietly but stared down at it, as if dead flies were floating inside.

  ‘Goan Port Wine,’ Darya said. ‘Rich, sweet, heavy. I got the best one in the market.’

  ‘Where is everyone else?’ Vidisha asked. ‘When are they coming?’

  ‘Soon, soon,’ Darya soothed. ‘Meantime, why don't we get the festivities started?’

  ‘But I don't drink,’ Aaron mumbled, gazing up at her.

  ‘Come on, have some,’ Darya said, her tone soft and encouraging. ‘This is only wine.’

  ‘But...,’ he swirled the liquid in his cup, giving it a dubious glance. ‘I don't...’

  ‘A little bit,’ she cajoled and bent low to look into his eyes. ‘It's really good. Try it.’

  They took a sip, then a few more. Darya sighed in relief.

  ‘It's not bad, right?’ she asked.

  Vidisha returned a loose smile, white teeth glistening behind cherry red lipstick. Aaron nodded, his face relaxing.

  Darya sat beside them.

  ‘That's the third best thing about Goa,’ she said. ‘First is the sea, second the people and third the wine or even the feni. All three together makes everything so sossegado, like nothing matters. There's no need to take any stress, life's good, everything's gonna be alright.’

  ‘Hear, hear,’ Aaron said.

  ‘'tis true,’ Vidisha murmured.

  ‘Aren't we lucky to be here?’ Darya asked.

  More nods.

  Darya saw that the vapours and the drink were beginning to have their affect. The two had started to lighten up. Easy smiles... dazed eyes... difficulty focusing.

  It was time.

  Darya plunged right in.

  Staring pointedly at Aaron, she asked softly, ‘Are you having a good time in Goa?’

  ‘Yes,’ he replied, a tranquil smile lighting up his face.

  ‘But I've always been curious...’ Darya said, ‘... as to why you came here.’

  He stared back at her as if being asked to play a game.

  ‘You called me,’ he said simply.

  ‘Here in Goa I mean and also... why at Heliconia Lane?’

  ‘In Goa... because I grew up here. I wanted a break to try something new,’ he said, his lips moving slowly. ‘At Heliconia Lane because Francis suggested I move here. He saw the advertisement.’

  Vidisha interrupted with a loud gargle. ‘But you know that already, Darya. He's my lodger. Although...’ She giggled, poking at him with her elbows. ‘Not for long.’

  ‘How so?’ Darya asked, her eyebrows raised.

  ‘We are selling the properties. Big money coming our way. Your father must have told you, na?’ Vidisha said.

  ‘How long have you been planning this?’ Darya asked casually.

  ‘Just recently,’ Vidisha said, with a hiccup. ‘We've been trying for one or two years but no one wanted to sell. You know, right? Now there's no one, so we are selling.’

  ‘Oh,’ Darya said, putting on a confused expression. ‘Then why take in Aaron as a lodger if you wanted to sell it anyway?’

  ‘It was temporary. I told him everything before. He said he could help... he didn't mind.’ Vidisha said. She didn't seem perplexed by the questions, only bothered about having to answer them in between sips of her drink.

  But not so Aaron. He placed his cup on the table. A magenta bubble streaked past his nose. He followed its progress with some surprise. Then focused his eyes back on Darya.

  ‘What is it, Darya?’ he asked. ‘What do you want to know?’

  Darya shrugged and looked nonchalant. ‘Simply curious about a few things. We're neighbours, after all. We should know each other better.’ She paused. ‘By the way, what about your other neighbours, Filip and Zabel Castelino? You seemed to have made inroads into their lives.’

  He gave her a puzzled look.

  ‘You seem eager to know them better.’

  He scowled. His lips formed the question why? But nothing came out.

  Darya realized she had to talk about things quickly now, before the others arrived.

  ‘Why so much interest in their lives...’ she asked, ‘... if you're planning to stay here only for a couple of days?’

  ‘They're my neighbours,’ he murmured. ‘We should be friendly, like you said.’

  His lips moved slowly. Like wet cotton balls.

  ‘That's it?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Aaron, tell me honestly, why are you in Goa?’ Darya asked.

  ‘I just told you.’

  ‘Tell me the truth.’

  He looked at her quizzically.

  ‘Aaron,’ Darya asked, her voice sharp. ‘Why did you come back?’

  They stared at each other for a long time, their eyes locked in a protracted battle until Darya whispered—

  ‘Shall I tell you?’

  His shoulders rose and fell in a leisurely shrug.

  She braced herself, took in a deep breath and said, ‘You're looking for the man responsible for your parents' death, the one who crashed into their car and was never punished for it.’

  He inhaled sharply. Shut his eyes. Opened them again.

  ‘Isn't it true?’ Darya asked.

  Vidisha was staring at Darya, her mouth open.

  But Aaron looked calmer now.

  Because of the fumes.

  Or was he glad to have been found out, his secret now in the open?

  ‘Well?’ Darya prompted.

  He folded his hands over his chest. Then in a voice, cold as ice, said, ‘It's true. Not the whole reason but a large part.’

  Vidisha turned to look at Aaron, a mixture of horror and pity on her face. This was obviously news to her. She slid her chair a couple of inches away and said, ‘Oh, God! I'm so sorry. Did you find him? Who was it? Oh, my God!’ Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘I had no idea.’ She stretched a hand to give his shoulders a squeeze. ‘Poor man,’ she purred.

  She doesn't know. Pa doesn't know. Aaron doesn't know.

  They'd done a good job of covering it.

  Aaron sat stiff as stone.

  ‘What were you planning to do when you found out who it was?’ Darya asked him.

  Something elusive came to his eyes—a brief spark of anger. Then it was gone. The alcohol and the fumes were bringing out the worst in him. He was trying to control himself, almost succeeding, but not quite. Darya felt guilty doing what she was, but knew it was necessary to get to the truth.

  ‘What were you planning to do?’ she asked, her eyes tracing the advance of a cluster of bubbles over his head. She heard the loud chatter of Oolo’s men from outside, followed by a burst of laughter.

  Like two different worlds. Like two different bubbles.

  She'd have to tell them to quieten down.

  She looked at Aaron now. He blinked, as if trying to focus.

  ‘You must have suffered,’ she said.

  ‘I did,’ he said.

  ‘Do you know who it was?’ she asked.

  They stared at each other.

  ‘Well?’ she said.

  Finally—

  ‘No,’ he said. Sighed deeply. Dropped his eyes to the ground.

  Darya felt sorry for him. His face looked shrunk, in shadows. Trembling fingers grabbed the second glass of wine she handed over.

  ‘Didn't know who it was then,’ he said. ‘Don't know it now either.’ His voice cracked. ‘My uncle and aunt did not tell me anything. I left quickly and the case was dismissed soon after.’

  ‘But you ca
me back to look,’ Darya said.

  He gave her a slight bob of head, a chilly half smile.

  ‘I came back to look,’ he murmured.

  ‘Do you have any clue as to who it was?’ she asked.

  Not once did he ask her why she was asking these questions. Eyes glazed, he heard her every word without protest.

  Thank you, Crazy Calm.

  ‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘I heard some things. Read the newspaper reports.’

  ‘What did you hear?’ Darya asked.

  ‘That the man drove a Goa registered Mahindra Classic,’ he replied dully. ‘And his very powerful friend hushed the case up.’

  Vidisha looked from one to another, a bewildered expression on her face. Her lips moved lugubriously, but the words were clear.

  ‘Oh, my God!’ she stuttered. ‘Darya... Uncle Pari's jeep... and Filip Uncle... ‘

  ‘Hush. Let him speak,’ Darya snapped, hoping Vidisha wouldn't say something stupid, realizing all at once how much the success of her plan hinged on hope.

  Aaron closed his eyes and spoke with his lips scarcely moving, ‘I don't know who it was. I saw the jeep at your house, but there are hundreds such in Goa. I'd already checked out a few before... in my free time... when the madness overcame me.’ He paused. ‘Then I visited Filip... to see if he recognized me... if he was involved in any way. But it didn't seem like he knew me. Neither did you.’ He opened his eyes. ‘And besides, your uncle was already dead.’

  ‘So…’

  He rubbed his temples. ‘There was no way to find out... no way to be sure. I know it's time to stop this mad hunt... there's no point.’ he said, looking crestfallen. Darya's heart constricted. ‘In all probability, the man must have sold his jeep. Why keep it?’ he nodded to himself. ‘Yes, that's what's probably happened.’

  ‘So, you don't know who it was?’ Darya said.

  He shook his head.

  Then after a moment's silence, she asked the question bothering her.

  ‘What about the picture I found taped to your bedroom door. The picture of the residents of Heliconia Lane?’

  ‘What picture?’ Vidisha asked. Neither looked at her. A stream of bubbles turned in a slow pirouette at the centre.

  Aaron shrugged. ‘I found it on the mantelpiece. Taped it on the wall to see if any of the faces jogged my memory. Took it out soon enough.’ His chest heaved as if he was struggling to control his emotions. ‘I remembered nothing. Even my...’ he swallowed, ‘my... my parents' faces have gone from my memory.’

  She looked at him, feeling wretched about what she was about to do, but it had to be done.

  She took a deep breath.

  ‘Aaron, you've been in Goa for over a year,’ she said. ‘The Salgaonkar's died in that time. My uncle died. The Castelinos were attacked.’ She turned to address Vidisha before she could react. ‘Oh, yes, do you think Zabel could have given Filip that kind of a beating? I can bet they were attacked but they blamed it on her depression, a relapse. But why?’—A theatrical pause—‘Aaron, are you sure you'd nothing to do with that?’ she had turned back to him, her eyes locked on his.

  There was a confounded silence.

  From the corner of her eyes, Darya saw Kamble shuffle on his feet, fiddle with his shirt and edge closer.

  ‘And then Gaurav got into an accident,’ Darya continued. ‘Weren't you in Delhi that day, Aaron...?’ She was throwing in a guess, hoping for a confirmation which would tie in neatly with her conjecture. ‘… meeting publishers for your book fest?’

  She breathed in relief when he replied, ‘Yes, I was, but I'd nothing to do with the accident.’

  ‘Oh my God! No...,’ Vidisha screamed, trying to get up, but instead stumbling over the leg of her chair. She fell to the ground, knees on the floor. Her glass slipped from her hand.

  Oolo peeped inside. Darya waved him away edgily. Kamble took a few steps towards them, but Darya held out a hand to stop him. She bent down to help Vidisha up. Aaron watched them impassively. His body jerked once or twice as if in an attempt to move, but he stayed put.

  ‘All fine?’ Darya asked Vidisha but she pushed her away.

  ‘Did he kill my parents?’ she cried. ‘Did he kill your uncle? Does he want revenge? We should call the police.’ Her face was sickly flushed.

  ‘I didn't do anything,’ Aaron said quietly. ‘I don't even know who it was. Even if I found out, I don't think I could do anything...’ He fell into a gloomy silence. ‘What can I do?’ he murmured, turning his palms over, as if asking himself.

  ‘Then why...,’ Vidisha started but her face turned slack. She couldn't speak out the words.

  But Aaron had had enough. Mustering all his energy, he got to his feet. His body swayed like a flag caught in the wind.

  ‘Are you done with this little drama of yours?’ he said, smiling thinly. ‘And here I thought you were not half bad. I almost liked you.’ His eyes blazed. ‘I wanted to know who killed my parents, who caused that... that accident. But what could I do after that? I am no killer. I only wanted closure.’

  ‘No, don't,’ Vidisha cried. ‘Don't believe him. You don't know. He could be lying. I always knew something was wrong with him.’

  Aaron did not reply. The anger flashed in and out of the eyes.

  Easy, easy on him. He's not the enemy.

  ‘Sit down, Aaron,’ Darya said. ‘It's not over yet.’

  He wavered on his feet for a second or two. She looked at him, appeal in her eyes. He seemed to sense it and sat down. Folding his arms across his chest, he turned his face to her expectantly.

  Turning to Vidisha, Darya said, ‘Sit.’

  She collapsed on her chair and stared into a corner.

  ‘What if he did kill them...,’ she muttered, ‘what if?’

  This was followed by a strange sort of silence—a buzzing, throbbing kind—before he asked the question she'd been dreading—

  ‘Was it your uncle's jeep that killed my parents, Darya?’

  His voice seemed to come from a far distance.

  She did not immediately reply.

  The air seemed to have thickened between them, like a purple cellophane. The half-sweet, half-tarty smell of pomegranate was growing stronger. Her head had begun to ache. She wished the others would arrive soon.

  She'd thought long and hard about it. Should she tell him? But what conclusive proof did she have anyway except for a few newspaper cuttings and a hunch that the way events had panned out fit with how Paritosh and Filip used to be? In any case, why rake up the past? It'd been an accident, the case was dismissed, and it would only cause Aaron anguish to know now, especially when she had little to back it up with. She'd talk to him, maybe after today, once this was over. She'd ask Filip for the truth, ask him to confess to Aaron... but not now. Not yet.

  Then careful to keep her face impassive, her tone neutral, and her words firm, she answered him.

  ‘To be honest, I don't know. He hardly ever used the jeep, lived mostly in Vatkola after my aunt died, and none of us ever heard about any accident. I doubt very much he was involved.’

  But before she could say more or he could reply, the door opened.

  Oolo showed in her father. A bewildered Filip and Zabel trailed behind. Darya had never been more grateful for her father's commitment to timeliness than at that moment.

  It was nine pm.

  Her father stood at the door, frozen and uncertain.

  ‘Pa,’ she waved at him.

  ‘What's all this?’ he asked, exchanging glances with Filip and Zabel who looked as astonished. ‘Always playing some or the other stunt, aren't we?’ he grunted, looking unhappy.

  Darya walked to the front to join them.

  ‘Come in, Pa, Filip, Zabel,’ she said. ‘Welcome to the last party at Sea Swept.’ She gave them a mock curtsy and gestured for them to come in.

  ‘That's Vidisha, isn't it?’ her father said, gesturing at her with his chin. Darya nodded. ‘She looks different,’ he added.

  ‘And he's th
e new tenant,’ Filip muttered. ‘Aaron.’

  The new arrivals stared at the seated duo who stared back. Exchanged uncertain smiles.

  ‘Come inside,’ Darya said.

  Filip and Vikas stood undecided for a minute. Then walked in.

  Zabel stayed where she was, looking confused.

  Darya gave her a gentle push and murmured, ‘Go on, Aunty. I'll get you some wine. Why don't you go sit there, on that chair next to Filip?’

  Everyone took their places, passing around muted greetings, smiles and food. The water from the fountain rose and fell. Soft string music wrapped around them like a velvety cloak.

  ‘What you doing, dear? A private party? Like old times?’ Zabel said, giving her a toothy smile.

  Filip's face was flushed. Droplets of sweat had gathered on his forehead. The fumes... already? Clasping his hands together, he leaned forward. ‘What's all this, Myna? What are we doing here?’ he asked.

  ‘It's a party!’ she said, infusing a generous dose of jollity in her voice. She passed around plates of bebinca and coconut cakes. Then cups of wine for the new guests, refills for the old. ‘There's also margarita if you want but I got that made for myself, mostly.’

  ‘I want to go,’ Vidisha complained from her chair.

  ‘In an hour,’ Darya said, her voice cool.

  ‘But what do you want from me?’ she whined.

  Darya swung around—too sharp a movement. Her head swam.

  Steady now.

  She leaned on the wall, breathing softly through her mouth. After a moment, she looked at Vidisha and asked, her voice placid—

  ‘Who killed your parents, Vidisha?’

  A hush fell into the room. Darya threw a sideways glance at her father. His jaw had dropped. But she saw a flash of comprehension in his eyes. He'd get it, soon enough.

  Filip and Zabel looked dumbfounded but a shroud of wariness was on them, as if they'd been expecting this.

  Vidisha did not seem to hear her at first. Then she understood. Her mouth fell open.

  She spluttered, ‘What? How... what the... what do you mean?

  ‘Did you kill them?’ Darya asked. Shock and awe—that's how interrogators controlled suspects. She'd read about it somewhere.

  ‘What? Of course not! How dare you?’

  ‘Was it murder?’ Darya asked.