by UD Yasha
Maa had disappeared on 1st August 2003. Radha, Karan and I were out with dad for the day. We had gone to an amusement park and had only returned at almost ten at night. Maa had stayed back home because she was unwell from a cold and mild fever. Dad still took us because we were all looking forward to the day for a month and he did not want to disappoint us.
After coming home, I rushed upstairs to tell maa about our evening. I remember being excited to see her. I opened her room door very slowly, in case she was sleeping. The light in her room was on. The bed was empty. The bathroom door was ajar and I saw a crack of light around it. I pushed it slowly and screamed.
My scream on seeing the blood in the bathroom brought dad, Radha and Karan to the room. Dad had frozen on seeing the bathroom. But he was quick to take me away from there as well as keep Radha and Karan out. I told them what I saw while we waited in our room. Dad called his cop colleagues and kept trying mom’s number but it was out of range.
We had a security camera in our house because of dad’s cautious nature. But somebody had blocked it at seven forty-five in the evening. Our neighbours had not seen anything. Maa’s shoes were missing so it was deduced rather weakly that she had gone out and then gotten kidnapped. If that was indeed the case, nobody could figure out why there was blood in the bathroom.
Dad himself could not be a part of that investigation directly as it was too close to home. The police chief was a good man and ran the department like a close-knit family so he did not keep dad out completely. Two weeks went by and no lead was found. Initially, it was believed to be a case of kidnapping but there was no call for ransom. It is believed that the chances of getting someone back after a kidnapping are the highest in the first twenty-four hours and then drop by more than ninety per cent. My mother had been gone for almost four hundred hours and people were starting to lose hope. If the investigators were to be believed, my mother had disappeared into thin air. My dad got increasingly frustrated and he asked for leave from work to pursue the investigation on his own.
We were in the care of our maushi, maa’s cousin. Every passing day, we missed maa more. Karan and I were old enough to understand what had happened. We were concerned about dad. He used to come to visit us every evening after we returned from school. We could see he was torn between finding maa and ensuring our welfare. We used to look forward to seeing him. We used to finish our school work on time to be able to spend time with him. Before he left, he would always tell us that we were soon going to find maa.
Then one day, dad did not come. We were eagerly waiting for him at eight o’clock. We were not concerned at first, not even maushi. At eight thirty she called him but his phone was out of range. At nine, she called the police department, but he had not shown up there as well. None of his friends knew where he was as well.
Just like that, we had lost both our parents in less than three months.
Chapter Nine
I strode up the stairs and went to my room. My study table was filled with books on psychology and maths – the two subjects I taught at a college. I had a stack of uncorrected papers from an exam I had conducted in class yesterday. I took the books and put them in a pile at the corner of the table. The papers went on top of that. The desk was clear. I had actual work to do.
I was already thinking about the woman who was murdered. Rathod wanted me to look at the crime scene photos. I booted up my laptop and inserted the pen drive. It had two medical reports and a folder of photos. I opened the folder. It had subfolders of different names. Victim, Bedroom, Bathroom, Luminol, House and Garden.
I opened the first that was titled ‘Victim’. It had photos of the dead woman’s body from different angles and some close-up shots of the neck.
The next folder was titled ‘Bedroom’. Every corner and object in a crime scene needed to be photographed, however irrelevant or small it may seem. You could never be sure what detail would get you the killer. I skipped it for now. I would look at that series later. Rathod wanted me to specifically see something.
I guessed ‘House’ and ‘Garden’ would have the same kind of photos and I had already seen the Luminol lighting up a message. I would look at them all later. I opened the Bathroom folder.
I froze on seeing the first image. It was taken from the bathroom door. The walls and tiles were splashed in blood. A literal bloodbath. But that’s not what made me go numb.
The exact same thing had happened in the bathroom of our house when maa had gone missing. All the blood in our bathroom belonged to maa. The reason she was presumed dead then was because of the sheer amount of blood she had lost. It had to be a miracle for her to be alive after that.
The similarity was uncanny. The crime scene was a copy of the crime scene at my house when maa disappeared. Trademark Zakkal in many ways, except for the presence of the body.
I moved to the next image. It was of my mom's hair. It was still black, with some white strands, shining, eerily lifelike. It was placed in a clean circle, the only area in the bathroom that did not have blood. I moved to the next image. It was a long shot of the bathroom, that captured the circle, the hair and the blood. My hands went cold seeing the similarity to our bathroom. I narrowed my eyes as I flipped through the other bathroom images.
This was the incident that had pulled me into studying law and then becoming a defence lawyer and later a private detective. I had spent hours going through maa’s files. The only physical evidence left behind was the blood on the bathroom walls. Seeing similar images drilled in the gravity of the situation.
The larger question loomed. What was I going to do? Was I ready to get back?
I had to make a choice. I could either let the CID handle this independently or also investigate the murder on my own. The latter meant returning to a life I had run away from for the past three years. I feared it would smash apart all the pieces that I had joined after such effort. But a thought came to my mind. What was I even afraid to lose? Being anxious, afraid of waking up, feeling scared and breaking into a sweat worried knowing that the girl whose life hung in the balance because of me could die at any moment? This was no life. For the first time in years, I felt energetic and excited when I had spoken to Rathod. The energy probably stemmed from knowing maa was alive. If there was ever going to be a last case I investigated, I would be glad if it involved saving maa.
I inhaled deeply.
I exited my bedroom and went to the stairs leading up to the terrace. The space at the landing was big enough to have racks that were stacked with files and papers from my days of practising law. It also had a small study table that I used when I was still active. I had spent hundreds of hours sitting at it, working cases. I had some of my biggest breakthroughs and ideas at that exact place. The memories always flooded my mind when I took a step towards to the terrace.
That day was no different. I had to go to the place that reminded me most of it to put an end to the cause of my trauma.
My feet turned heavy as I dragged myself to the file cabinet. I knew the file I dreaded the most was at the extreme end of the rack. Radha had put it away. I froze.
The face of the man I had defended three years back flashed in front of my eyes. Shivers crawled up my body. His name was Kunal Shastri. I remembered the way he had shaken my hands after the court case had got over. The way he had looked in my eyes and smiled, while gently pressing into the handshake. The way he had said, ‘thank you' in a low hoarse voice.
I had flashed him a warm smile then, thinking I had done a good job by setting free another innocent person. It was my way of giving back to society. Because of dad being accused of taking maa, I knew the pain of a loved one being accused of a crime that they had not committed. I thought that was the last I would see of him.
A month had gone by and I was about to pour some silky Glenlivet in a glass to wind down after a busy day when he had walked back into my office. He had smiled again. But this time it did not reach his eyes. They looked cold and pale. That was my first hint that some
thing was wrong.
‘Can I come in?’ he said, knocking on the door, peering in. ‘I see you’re celebrating. Mind if I join you for a minute?’
I hesitated. He had been a good guy with manners. I had no reason to feel creeped out.
‘Yes please,’ I said.
I pulled out another glass from the rack and poured him a drink. ‘What are you going to do now?’ I asked.
He took the glass and held it in the air. ‘To freedom,' he said and clinked his against mine. He took a sip and made a face like he was appreciating the whiskey. ‘I'm going to go home to my wife and daughter and hold them close like I've done the past month every night. This has taken a lot out of all of us. I cannot thank you enough.'
I had never known what to say when a client thanked me after being set free. I feel it is my obligation to seek justice, whether it is defending the innocent or chasing the guilty.
All legal systems are erected on two pillars – the guilty must be punished while the innocent must be armed with rights. Both are equally important. For catching a criminal is as important as ensuring that good people are empowered. There are enough people doing the latter and not many good ones doing the former. There’s no glamour in defending someone who had been accused of rape or murder.
So, I always smiled and felt good about carrying out my duty. That was all it was to me. A simple duty. The reputation, the money; they were all by-products.
We sipped the whiskey in silence for a while until he downed the final three sips. He rose. ‘I better get going,’ he said.
‘Use the back door this time. No one knows it exists,’ I said to him, peeking out from the window by separating the curtains. ‘The media is like vultures. They’ll try scavenging for every bite they can get.’
He nodded his head slowly with a slight curl of his mouth which I knew by then was his gesture of appreciation. ‘I’ll always remember you,’ he said, once again smiling, and once again the smile did not reach his eyes.
My hands went cold.
I could not quite place something about his demeanour. I watched him take his stuff – a leather messenger bag and a coat. He broke step for the back door and stopped when he reached it. He turned around, looking very different all of a sudden. More raw and pale.
Am I imagining this or something is wrong with him?
He took a half a step towards me. ‘Also,’ he said and paused.
And in that very second, everything changed.
I froze and panic ricked my intestine. I knew what was coming next. How could I have done this? I was in sheer disbelief. Could it actually be true? But that feeling lasted less than a picosecond. Guilt crippled me.
He stepped forward again. I did not want him to say what I was thinking. As if him not saying it would make it less true.
‘I wouldn’t have been able to walk away free had it not been for you,’ he said. ‘You’re the best. Especially as I killed all those girls.’ He held his hands, fingers separated, in front of his face. ‘I killed them with these very hands. I have been meaning to tell you for so long. Meaning to tell someone. Meaning to be appreciated for my work.’
He threw his hands in the air. He smiled again. It was a menacing turn of his face, one that I would replay over and over again in my head for years to come. He bore no expression. And I could see it this time. ‘That's why I want to thank you, my lawyer,' he said, stressing on the last two words. ‘You proved I was innocent. You did the unthinkable. I knew you were good at your job. But to play the court, the judge, the people, the media; in the manner you did. Wow. Hats off to you.' He mimed actually taking off his hat. He paused. ‘I wanted to ask you. You said something about only defending innocent people when we first met. Is it actually true? Because you convinced everyone I was as pure as a saint. Having said that, maybe I should start believing in God. For what you did was a miracle. You're God, Siya Rajput. You're God!'
Silence resounded in my office.
Kunal went on. ‘You know, after the court let me go, I thought I would kill one last time. And I just did. I thought I should come and tell you right after the kill.'
I was stunned. Every word was like a turn of the dagger that was already inside me. I could not move. I could not breathe. His words, his face and the conviction with which he spoke pierced his knife deeper into my heart. As my head become a muddle then, I knew this was going to change everything.
Kunal Shastri was enjoying himself. He had got an audience after a long time. He was making the most of it. He said, ‘But don’t worry, my Lord. I have made a decision. I will never kill again. Never ever. I will change my ways. I will hold my wife close and tell bedtime stories to my daughter. I used to do that before as well. I used to tell a special story – the same always on the nights I used to venture out to kill. But I will never again tell her that story. I will change my ways.’ He started grinning. ‘I feel like I’m alive again. It’s all because of you. I want to thank you for everything,’ he said, and then finally left, leaving me alone with the demons he had set free.
I collapsed to my knees. I saw his face wherever I looked. My head touched the ground and I sat that way for hours. I did not cry, not then, not when the shock of everything was so raw and fresh. I did not answer my calls. I had not even heard my phone ring.
Eventually, Radha came to my office. I did not hear her banging my office door. I did not realize her coming in. I did not remember her asking me what was wrong. I did not have the slightest memory of her taking me to the hospital. I do not remember what happened next. All I could see were four different faces of four different girls; faces of those that he had murdered. Nothing else mattered, nothing else existed. All I knew was that my life was over. I was responsible for the murder of a seven-year-old girl.
I had only said one thing. There were probably the most important words I have ever uttered. I told Radha a girl’s life was in danger. I would later know that the police had got to her just in time to save her from dying. But in the meantime, she had lost a lot of blood and her brain had got less oxygen, putting her in a coma from which she had not woken up since. Kunal Shastri was arrested soon. A trial followed and he was found guilty. It was found out that his wife killed along with him. She was his alibi and the basis of my case for his innocence in the first place.
The doctors told me I had a blackout, the cause of which was unknown but they suspected it was high stress because my blood pressure had shot up as if I had just sniffed cocaine. I was kept under observation in the hospital for the next three days. I did not speak anything else. Not even with Radha who had been next to me every minute.
We eventually got released from the hospital in three days. Radha hugged me and did not let go for hours. Maybe even the entire week. I started crying somewhere in between. Radha said only one thing, the one that mattered the most. ‘I love you no matter what,’ she whispered in my ear.
Chapter Ten
The girl Kunal Shastri had attacked was fighting for her life because of me. Shastri was serving time for his crime, but that did not change the fact that I could have caught him earlier and saved the girl.
That’s why I was hesitant to dive into this investigation. I was afraid to admit the reason. I knew it deep down. I thought I was not good enough anymore. If I was, I would not have let Kunal Shastri get away in the first place. His victims would have got justice earlier. He had been caught one victim too late because I had freed him in the first place. It was a dangerous thought to have. It snaked in my mind and I kept feeding it with more self-doubt. I checked on the girl in coma every month. Her name was Suhana Kulkarni. Thinking about her, made pain shoot through my head.
A switch clicked.
Maa’s smiling face flashed in front of my eyes. I remembered the last time she had held me close and planted a kiss on my cheek. It was just a day before she vanished. I had gone to her room to tell her I was leaving for school. I remembered her tender smile, one that could calm even the harshest of souls.
At th
at moment, love triumphed over fear.
I realized then, that we only need to be brave for just one heartbeat as long as we act in that fleeting moment of courage.
No more. Enough is enough. I scampered to my room and grabbed my laptop. I ran downstairs. I had to put an end to this. Nothing else entered my mind. I plucked a bunch of keys from the stand and unlocked the front door. The cold air smacked me. I was not wearing a sweater. I did not care. I crossed to the garage of our house. It a few yards away from the veranda. I had last been inside three years back. It would have been a wreck if not for Radha who made sure it was cleaned every three months. I used a key to unlock the two padlocks on the garage shutter.
I stood back, never more convinced that it was time to open it. I stepped forward, bent down and held the shutter. I yanked it up. An old dusty smell hit me. I covered my nose and mouth instinctively. I found the light switch and turned it on. The garage revealed itself.
Memories of days and nights spent inside rushed past me. The one that stood out was the moment when I had realized Kishore Zakkal was the person behind the disappearance of my mother and six other women. It was late at night. I ran inside the house the moment I had cracked the case. I had woken up Radha. She had known for the past six months that I had been carrying out an investigation of my own along with Santosh Wagh. I told her everything then from the start. We had stayed up for the remainder of the night and spoken through the next day after cancelling all other plans. Within the next week, we handed over the evidence to Maharashtra CID. They came on board. Eventually, Zakkal was caught in the act of stalking and killing a woman. We saved the woman just in time.
We were delighted to get justice for maa. But that happiness segued into disappointment because we never got to know what had happened to maa or the other women who were taken by Zakkal. He refused to speak. He refused to reveal if the women were dead or alive. The court case found him guilty of kidnapping seven women and killing one woman. There was enough evidence in his car that linked him to the women who had disappeared.
