‘How do you know about the rumour?’ Darya pressed.
‘I heard from someone,’ said Veda distractedly.
‘From whom?’ Darya asked, unable to keep the scoff away from her voice. ‘The grocer Kishen?’
‘He’s not the only gossip around.’
‘Then whom?’
When Veda didn’t respond, Darya continued, ‘Why do people think that though? Because she wears black clothes? And never smiles? And keeps to herself? And doesn’t go to church?’ Darya wasn’t sure of this, but she didn’t think Debbie did. And Darya hadn’t seen an altar inside the villa either.
Veda cleared her throat. ‘It’s not only that.’
Darya sighed. ‘You know how it is. A woman prefers to keep to herself and dresses the way she wants to, and everyone starts calling her names.’
Veda looked up. ‘I’m not saying that’s a bad thing,’ she murmured. ‘Being a witch.’
Darya was taken aback. She hadn’t expected that.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked curiously.
‘Just that,’ Veda said. ‘Witches are simply women with power. They’re actually goddesses but have gotten a bad name over the years. They draw strength from the universe, from nature, from the knowledge of ancient spiritual practices. How they use power is what matters. Perhaps Debbie doesn’t use it well.’ She paused, a faint sheepish look on her face. ‘I mean… if she were a witch.’
‘What… what are you saying?’ said Darya. ‘You thought she was okay before.’
‘That was then. This is now. I’ve been thinking about it,’ Veda said. ‘How do you think they afforded a big bungalow like this? Their father barely made ends meet. They stayed at a far end of the city, in a one-bedroom flat. How did Debbie come upon so much money overnight?’
‘How do you know where they lived before?’ Darya asked. ‘A sudden fountain of knowledge, aren’t you?’
Veda waved a hand. ‘People in the street talk. I know. The family lived in Kamothe in a one-bedroom flat before. When their father remarried, they inherited a neighbouring flat. But Debbie and Viktor didn’t get along with their stepmother, so Debbie bought this place and moved here.’ A pause. ‘But how did she get the money?’ continued Veda, raising her eyebrows. ‘The villa must have cost two crore rupees at the very least. Debbie doesn’t seem to have any other job. Viktor’s plumbing errands won’t even pay for the garden.’
‘What about her husband?’ Darya stated. ‘He might have helped.’
‘I can bet there’s no husband.’
‘Huh? She told us about him.’
Veda let out a derisive snort but said nothing further.
Darya realized it was pointless to argue. Veda was laying the foundation to reveal something bigger. ‘So, what’s your theory?’ Darya asked, playing along. ‘That they have all this money because she’s a witch?’
Veda shrugged.
‘But how do witches make money?’ asked Darya, not willing to give up, though she felt ridiculous pursuing this line of conversation. ‘By hypnotizing people to give them some?’
‘There is street gossip.’
‘That didn’t say how?’
‘No,’ Veda said shortly, ‘just rumours.’ She let out a soft breath. ‘Like you said… people make up anything.’
Darya had the impression she was conceding only because she didn’t want to speak about Debbie anymore.
A thought struck her, something she had wondered on and off over the past few days. ‘Veda,’ she said quietly. ‘Do you think Debbie… or she and her brother… had something to do with the kidnappings? Kyra also stayed here. And the Mascarenhas arrived here four years ago.’
‘See…’ Veda trailed off, not meeting Darya’s eye, ‘I really don’t know. But… do you know whose house this was before?’
Darya shook her head.
‘Remember Linda Sharma?’
Darya’s jaw fell open.
‘It belonged to her family,’ Veda said softly. ‘Viktor and Debbie bought it from the Sharmas after their daughter disappeared.’
‘Distress sale?’ Darya wondered. ‘Did the Mascarenhas kill the daughter so they could take over the villa for cheap?’ The speculation sounded far-fetched.
But Veda didn’t seem to think so. ‘Makes one wonder, doesn’t it?’ she said. ‘No smoke without fire and all that.’
‘Should we find out?’ Darya asked in a hushed tone.
This time Veda returned a startled look.
Then together, they smiled.
Darya walked to her and gave her a quick hug.
‘Oy,’ Veda protested, laughing. ‘What was that for?’
‘I miss you.’
‘I’m right here!’
Darya let her go. ‘Listen though… given how things are with them’—she pointed down to indicate the Mascarenhas—‘we will stay only if you are okay to stay on.’
‘Are you okay to stay?’
Darya nodded slowly. ‘It’s only for a month and a half more. I do think though we should be more careful. More alert. I mean… others have stayed here. Nothing happened to them. The broker would have told us, right? What do you think?’
Veda chewed on her lower lip. ‘I want to stay too. There’s a lot to do.’
Darya gave her a sideward glance, unsure what that meant, but didn’t ask her to explain. In any case, it suited her that Veda wanted to stay; Darya had forgotten how good it felt to experience the adrenalin rush that came with solving a mystery.
She was going to be doing some digging. How, what, where, she had yet to think through.
‘Here. Have some of these.’ Darya handed over a packet of pav, bhurji and jalebis she’d bought from the sweet shop downstairs after the marriage party had stormed off. ‘Sugar bombs for the day,’ she said, pointing to the jalebis. When Veda protested, she replied, ‘But they looked so delicious!’
They ate silently.
When Darya got up to clear the crumbs off, Veda’s phone buzzed. She jumped and snatched the phone off the table, a greedy smile on her face.
Darya could hold herself no longer. ‘Who’s that?’ she asked.
Veda looked up at her quizzically.
‘This guy who keeps messaging you?’ Darya said.
But before Veda could respond, the sound of loud voices from downstairs floated up and reached their ears.
Darya swung her feet off the bed.
‘Wait, where are you…?’ Veda started.
‘Why miss the fun?’ Darya said and gestured for her to come along. ‘Something’s always going on here. Let’s see what it is this time. Remember, we promised to find out?’
‘If not for the drawing in room 101, what have you come for?’ Viktor was saying.
‘Kay?’
‘Shh… it’s graffiti on the door, not a drawing,’ Debbie scolded. ‘Let them speak. Don’t be rude.’
Two policemen were at the front door. Debbie and Viktor stood facing them. Viktor’s glasses and cap were off, his shoulders were slumped. Debbie stood erect, wary.
Darya and Veda watched from the shadows, halfway down the stairs.
The bulkier constable spoke first. He seemed to know Debbie already, his manner familiar.
‘Tumhi kase aahaat, Deb madam?’
‘Theek,’ she replied.
‘Mags kuthe ahe?’
‘Huh?’ Viktor muttered. ‘Mags?’
‘Manjhe Max?’ Debbie said, understanding.
‘Ho.’
‘What happened? Inspector Shinde? Constable Raman?’ she asked pleasantly, turning from one to another. ‘Why are you looking for Max?’
‘Mags made a complaint,’ the thinner policeman explained. Based on his body language, he appeared to be the senior of the two policemen. Inspector Shinde.
‘He… they left,’ Debbie said.
‘Checked out?’
‘Yes,’ she replied.
Darya and Veda exchanged glances.
‘Not possible,’ Shinde said, looking grim. ‘He made
a complaint.’ He turned to his colleague so that he could add his bit.
Constable Raman obliged. ‘They’re from Poland. Foreigners. It is serious. Embassy is involved. Where are they?’
‘We don’t know. They checked out,’ Debbie repeated.
‘His girlfriend came back?’
‘No.’
‘No one came back?’
A barely suppressed sigh. ‘No,’ Debbie replied.
‘Please show us your guest register. Also, we want to check their room.’
‘Someone else is staying in the room now. Max took everything with him.’
‘You should have called us.’
Then came the sound of the garden’s swing gate opening.
The policemen turned. Darya noticed the change in their body language, the sudden burst of animation.
A few exclamations and a hurried sound of feet on gravel later, Rajesh walked in. He gestured for Debbie and Viktor to move aside and stood in front of the two policemen, arms crossed across his chest, his lips parted in a wide grin.
‘Kase aahat, sahib?’ he asked, addressing them.
A lively interchange of Marathi followed. Darya caught only the gist of it.
Rajesh was applying to be a constable at the Hill Road police station. He knew the two policemen well; he used to work for them in some capacity at one time (a khabri, an informer, it sounded like, Darya couldn’t understand that part well) but had recently dropped off the radar.
‘Why stay here? We could have arranged the police quarters for you,’ they said.
‘It is necessary,’ he told them.
The two policemen exchanged puzzled glances but didn’t press.
Darya was having a hard time picturing Rajesh as a part of the police force. Who’d trust him to protect them? And with that voice!
A tap on her shoulder cut through her thoughts.
‘I’m going up to the room. Coming?’ Veda whispered.
Darya nodded and they walked upstairs silently.
Once back in their room, Veda spoke before Darya did.
‘Now, don’t start again,’ she said.
But Darya was not to be cowed. ‘Don’t think this minor diversion can deter me! Who have you been messaging? Is it Rishabh?’ she asked.
Veda flashed her a caustic look.
‘Why won’t you tell me?’ Darya asked, exasperated.
After a few seconds’ silence, just when Darya thought Veda was going to say something, she whispered, ‘Nothing. It’s nobody.’
‘Come on!’
‘It’s no one,’ Veda repeated, firmly this time. ‘And please don’t ask me anymore.’
Darya sighed. Then, with some effort, pulled up a change of topic to diffuse the tension in the room. ‘You know… I hadn’t thought of it, but if something were to happen to Kyra, it’d be an international incident. It would be on TV channels,’ she said.
‘But it isn’t,’ Veda said.
‘I wonder why,’ Darya said. ‘The media gets to know even before the police do.’
After a moment’s thought, Veda asked, ‘Did you hear what Debbie said as we were walking up?’
‘No, did you?’ Darya asked, surprised. They had been talking in Marathi, but Veda understood Marathi better than Darya did.
‘Debbie told them Max and Kyra were planning on staying a few months in the Himalayas. In some remote village. They should wait a few months for them to show up. There was no point in searching for them.’
Darya’s eyes widened. ‘That’s ridiculous,’ she said. ‘We know Max was distraught. He didn’t know where Kyra was. Or… do you think Kyra came back and they did check out and leave for the mountains?’
‘Yeah, could be.’ She bit her lip. ‘In any case, I don’t care about Kyra or Debbie,’ Veda murmured.
Darya knew what Veda left unsaid.
She was only bothered by Viktor.
It was a few days later, and though Darya had been late for class, overall it had been a good day. She’d passed the surprise quiz with the highest marks and, afterwards, had made the perfect flat white. So, with a song on her lips and her spirits high, she walked to the road to hail a taxi for the ride back to Bandra.
She was going to splurge.
As Darya was getting out of her class, Veda called.
‘Where are you?’ she asked.
‘At Colaba. Just heading back. Why?’
‘I’ll be late,’ she said.
‘Okay,’ replied Darya, confused. They never gave each other a report of the day unless something important had happened. Veda calling to tell her she was going to be late was unusual. ‘Is it going to be very late?’
‘Post ten,’ Veda said.
‘So, I’ll be awake anyway,’ Darya said.
‘Maybe even later.’
‘What are you up to?’ Darya asked, trying to keep her voice casual.
She heard a discordant squawk on the phone and moved it away from her ears. ‘See you later,’ Veda said, ending the call.
Darya crossed the street to get a taxi, but she saw none empty. She waited for twenty minutes, then gave up.
She glanced at the time on her phone—7 p.m. She knew the trains were going to be mad crowded, but she would have to brave it. Anyway, she preferred taking the train on days like these, when a drizzle was threatening to turn into full-blown rain: the traffic jams on the roads would be unimaginable.
She walked to Churchgate station.
Elbows jostled, followed by loud curses as Darya squeezed herself into the ladies’ compartment of Bandra Fast. She hung by a whisker at the door, as two huge women held her in a tight embrace. A synthetic fabric-soaked-with-sweat smell wafted all around her and Darya forced herself to focus on the stream of moving lights outside to avoid gagging.
Churchgate… Marine Lines… Charni Road… Grant Road… Mumbai Central… she ticked off the stations in her head as they passed by.
It was when the train reached Dadar station and slowed down at the pulpit that she saw them.
Over the sea of milling heads clambering to get down from the train.
Darya didn’t believe her eyes at first.
What were the three of them doing there?
The women she recognized as Debbie and Sapna. Debbie in dark clothes and black goggles, Sapna in a bizarre red T-shirt. The latter looked so unlike her usual self; Darya blinked a couple of times to make sure it was her.
And pointing a finger at her face, looking agitated, was…
Rajesh!
What were they doing together? At Dadar station? Were they going away together somewhere? What was Rajesh so angry about? He was clutching Sapna’s forearm, and judging by the look on her face, it wasn’t a gentle grasp.
The train lurched. An elbow slammed against Darya’s waist. She winced and pushed the woman away. A flurry of curses followed.
When she turned again, the train had moved past the station. She’d lost sight of the three.
When Darya finally reached home, having taken a short detour to grab dinner, it was 9 p.m. She didn’t want to run into Debbie or Viktor or any of the other residents. She was tired and hungry and wanted to change, eat and sleep. She’d talk to Veda in the morning, tell her about what she’d seen. Darya decided she was probably making too much of the whole thing. The three obviously knew one another. And Rajesh and Sapna were probably having a marital tiff. Common enough.
She sneaked past the reception and ran upstairs. But just as she turned the lock and nudged the door open, she noticed the door to Parthiv’s room was ajar; a slice of light fell on the passage floor through the crack.
Darya walked towards it, her senses on high alert. She didn’t want to be caught but was curious about Parthiv. Who was he? What was his story? They hadn’t exchanged a single word since he’d checked in, except that one weird encounter late at night when he had surely been doped and out of his mind. At other times, if they ever crossed paths, he kept his head down and never once met her eyes. Veda said he looked crazy,
a dopehead, but harmless. Though was he harmless really?
She heard whisperings.
A man and a woman were talking inside.
Darya placed her back flat on the wall next to the door.
‘Muskhil hai,’ a woman said softly.
‘Run away,’ the man replied.
‘But where to?’ the woman asked. ‘The next time he will not show me any mercy.’
‘I can take you someplace safe.’
A soft sigh. ‘Is that why you let me out? So, you can do to me what he has been doing?’
‘I want to help you,’ the man replied solemnly.
‘That’s what they all say,’ the woman replied. ‘Could’ve just let me rot inside. He’s going to come back. It’ll be the same again. What was the point?’
‘Come with me,’ the man said. ‘I’ll keep you safe.’
‘You keep saying that, but I don’t believe you,’ the woman replied sorrowfully. ‘And it’s not that simple.’
They were silent for a few minutes. A rickshaw honked on the road.
‘Why is it not simple?’ Parthiv asked. His voice was silvery, soothing.
‘I tried today. I told you. And… he has photos. My father would kill himself if he ever…’ The rest of her words were drowned in sudden sobs.
‘Come away with me, Sapna,’ Parthiv muttered.
Darya gave a silent gasp. In her surprise, she missed what Sapna said in response.
After a brief pause, Parthiv spoke again. ‘You know the story of the baby elephant tied with ropes?’
‘No?’ Sapna said. Darya imagined she’d turned her face to Parthiv, curious and flushed.
‘It’s a tale apt for your situation.’
‘What is it?’
He told her.
She let out a sad laugh.
‘Now you are making fun of me. Because he tied me to the bed today.’ She began weeping again. Darya heard only snatches of the next few words. ‘Like in prison. Cannot go out. No freedom. No point in money.’
Darya heard footsteps coming close to her. ‘Drink something,’ she heard Parthiv say, his voice merely inches away. She slunk further into the shadows.
‘You should leave him,’ Parthiv said.
The Darya Nandkarni Misadventures Omnibus: Books 1-3 Page 33
