Devi

by Nag Mani

“You knew him personally?”

  “No.”

  “But you have spent quite a few nights in his house.”

  “That was field work. It’s a long way from here, not safe after dark. He offered me to stay out of courtesy.”

  “Courtesy, you say? Okay. What about the land he gifted you? Another courtesy?”

  Manoj’s eyes darted towards Aditi. She was still staring at her feet. “I don’t know what land you are talking about.”

  “I thought so. The papers haven’t been signed yet. I heard this Heera Lal Singh is preparing a wedding for his daughter. That he plans to give a big piece of land for dowry…”

  “Inspector Sahib,” shouted Bhagvati, no longer maintaining her politeness, “what do you think you are doing? Creating a rift between husband and wife? My poor son went to Purnia for whatever reasons he might have had; it is for his wife to enquire. You should keep your business away from all this.”

  “Yes, Ma Ji, I will be only glad to keep my business. But let me ask one last question. Mr Prasad, one more question. May I?”

  His nostril flaring, Manoj turned around and gave another swift glance at Aditi, wondering how much she already knew. The inspector was quiet for a while, studying Manoj. Then he asked, slowly, “Have you heard of…” he leaned closer, trying to perceive any subtle reaction, “…Babu Bhaiya?”

  Manoj didn’t respond. He glared at the inspector monotonously. “Did he gift me some land as well?” asked Manoj eventually.

  “So, you don’t know him?”

  “You know you are harassing a public servant? You are trying to put the blame on me, isn’t it? I am telling you I was not…”

  “You know, Ma Ji,” the inspector turned to the bedroom, “this Babu Bhaiya. He is from this Kursakanta down south. Used to work for our Mukhiya Ji. And you know what he did for living? He specialised in women trafficking. He would abduct women from the villages here and transport them to whorehouses in Nepal. There was a big nexus here, around six-seven years ago. Araria. Purnia. Kishanganj. Even your Harda. The victim’s family could run to police as much as they liked, but their daughters never came back.

  “When the network grew, they decided to bring in different types of women. On customers’ demand. You know, diversify. These village women were… you know… village women. So he began to kidnap women who came from cities with their husbands, just like you two. But they were a risk. It was very likely that their husbands or fathers knew some big-shots back in Patna. One wrong move and the entire Bihar Police would be knocking at his door. So, he used to arrange for a scapegoat, usually some dysfunctional whore, who looked somewhat similar to the woman he planned to abduct. The woman would disappear and soon a body would be found. Battered, rotten and beyond recognition. The family would grieve. They would go to police and the police would look for the murderer, follow all misleading clues while the woman was being raped in some dingy hotel in Nepal.

  “Police did manage to arrest him. But he was later released on bail. Om Prakash Singh did know a lot of men on high seats. Babu Bhaiya managed to slip into Nepal and the last we heard of him, he was running a brothel in Biratnagar. It is not in our jurisdiction, but we kept an eye on him. He didn’t cause us much trouble though. Just kept a low profile.”

  Inspector Mishra paused to study the manger, who still wore a bitter expression, and adjusted his belt again. “Then we heard about him yesterday. We got a tip-off that he had crossed the border. We arrested him. He was with a woman. Say what, around thirty-five. Slim. Her hair was henna dyed, like your wife’s, Mr Prasad. We brought him to our station last night. He started babbling without much of an effort from our side. Turns out, the Mukhiya had called him here for one last contract, you know, for old times’ sake. There was this city woman he had to abduct. He said she had come here just recently. His orders were to transport this woman to some house and keep her there, exclusively for our Mukhiya. And when the Mukhiya was ‘finished’ with her in a week or so, Babu Bhaiya was to transport her to Nepal. She would then be open for public. And Ma Ji, guess who this woman was?”

  “Sahib Ji,” Bhagvati went out in the hall, “you are mistaken. This cannot be happening. I know my son. He cannot dare do such a thing!”

  “As I said earlier, Ma Ji, isn’t all this very convenient. There was a conspiracy to kidnap Aditi. And her husband happened to dump her at the very place and on the very night it was all planned. And it is very likely that he brought her here for this very reason. Then there is this affair on the other side of the village. The night visits on the pretext of field work. The small gift. The rumours of marriage. If that land was just a token, imagine what the dowry must have been? But what was keeping this marriage from happening? Aditi. Now you see, why it was important to remove her from the scene? A body would turn up some days later and we would all assure ourselves that she was in heaven resting in peace. It was a master plan. Only that it failed. Only that the Devi killed the Mukhiya the night he was to kidnap her.”

  “Inspector Sahib,” Bhagvati folded her hands, “please leave us alone.”

  “I will, for there is still doubts as to how much your son is involved in this conspiracy. But I need to first hear what Aditi has to say.”

  Manoj, who had kept silent till now, his lips trembling with rage, burst out eventually, “What conspiracy are you talking about? And who is this Babu Bhaiya? I want to see him. Where is he? I don’t know any Mukhiya! I don’t know any Babu or Bhaiya! Why will I harm my wife?”

  “Please calm down son!” Bhagvati rushed to him and began stroking his arm. “Clam down! You have had a rough journey. Calm down…”

  And they all stood shocked at their places when Aditi rose to her feet, marched across the hall and slapped Manoj hard on his face. A ringing sound hovered in the room.

  “That is what I want to ask,” she screamed, “why do you want to harm me? What have I done? You want to kill me, go ahead, do it now. KILL ME!” She grabbed his hands and put them around her throat. “KILL ME!”

  Bhagvati was screaming now, “Calm down, my son!” She tried to push Aditi back to her room. “You are not well. This is all my fault. All my fault!”

  “What have you not done to kill me? You could have burnt me alive. Pushed me off some stairs. Just like you did to Lakshmi when you no longer needed her! Why all this? This kidnapping? This black magic? You want to kill me. Then do it. Kill me. Why the girls? What had they done to you? WHAT HAD I DONE?”

  “Do you know what you are blabbering?” Bhagvati had succeeded in pushing her through the doorway. Payal was standing at the door to the backyard, wide-eyed, clutching a broom.

  “What am I talking about? I went to that mango tree. That old mango tree. And I got what I was looking for. She was right. Someone had performed black magic. But the girls were not the target. They were the price!”

  “What are you saying…”

  “I was the target! The black magic was done on me!”

  Tears began to form in her eyes. The way they had, when she first untied the red cloth. She had expected the tuft of hair to be black, maybe curly. But it was straight and shiny, with a tint of henna. Tucked in them were pieces of red glass bangles with golden leaves and glittering stones. The same bangles she had broken once while sweeping the backyard, and had flung its pieces over the boundary-wall with the rest of the litter.

  She had been so engrossed in examining the contents that she failed to notice the two figures approaching her from behind.

  But Bachcha did, for he barked and whimpered at the same time

  “Aunty?”

  A strong fragrance of rose filled her nostrils. Aditi jumped around. There, on the many branches of the trees, hanging by their necks were dozens of men, women and children, their bodies swaying in an intangible breeze.

  The bundle fell from her hands as she shrieked and backed away.

  She saw dark figures moving in between the trunks. To her left, behind a thicket of bamboos, an old woman was sitting cross-legged
on a mound. Chanting. Swaying...

  Someone ran across the path. Aditi caught a glimpse of a woman in a bridal dress… And then her eyes fell on the ground.

  Zeenat and Zeba were slowly crawling their way towards her, their faces inches from the ground, their white eyes fixed on her.

  Aditi screamed and screamed. She ran as the world swirled around her. The path ended abruptly and fell some forty feet down to the river bank. Bachcha was already making his way down the steep slope, his limbs half buried in loose mud and sand. She jumped, landed halfway down the slope and rolled and tumbled the rest of the way. She felt her breath being knocked out. Then darkness. She dreamt of two girls peeping over her from the top…

  When she came around, she noticed that the sun was slightly higher in the sky. She heard a continuous PUFF PUFF coming from somewhere nearby. Bachcha was pouncing at something at the edge of the brown water. He came running to her the moment she got to her feet. Slightly disoriented, she made her way down the river bank, towards the broken bridge, and up the path that led to the main road.

  She felt everyone’s eyes on her as they crossed paths. She brushed off dirt from her hair. Her clothes. Settled her sari. Wiped her face. It was late morning by the time the market came in view. The gumti was open and its owner was chewing on a neem stem – a datman, and rubbing his teeth and rinsing his mouth alternatively.

  Then Arvind appeared from somewhere, and seeing her condition, took her inside the almost deserted bank. She sat in the branch manager’s office.

  “You went to tree, Madam? Didn’t you?” he whispered, checking at the two clerks in the hall who had just come in. They greeted her, curiously, and then went about doing their work.

  Aditi nodded. “I want to see your mother.”

  “Yes, Madam, I will tell her. But what did you find, Madam?”

  Aditi hesitated. “Hair. And bangles.”

  “Damn it! This Razzak. How much I not tell him? He should have done it first thing when his eldest daughter died. We people are not good, Madam. We cannot see someone progress. And why will not we be jealous of this man? He was just driver. And look at him now. All rich and prosperous. And such happy family. And such beautiful daughters. Who wouldn’t wish to be like him…”

  “Those girls didn’t wear bangles, Arvind…”

  Arvind looked blank.

  “They were mine,” she blurted out. “The bangles. The hair. They were mine.”

  It took a while for his expression to change. He eyed her up and down, wondering if she was in her senses. Finally, he sunk down in his chair, thinking, biting his lips. Aditi covered her face and began to cry. He held out a hand, then lowered it. Cleared his throat. “Where is it, Madam?”

  “I dropped it. I saw them. I saw them all. And I saw Zeenat and her sister…”

  “They… girls, you saw them?”

  Aditi nodded. She wiped her face. “I need to see your mother,” she said, her voice somewhat stern now, “I want this thing off my back.”

  “But why girls, Madam, why them?” he replied, still not convinced with her story. And then something struck him. He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, “Did you see rose pant under tree?” Aditi nodded again. “Did you notice… err… something there?”

  “There were quite many flowers. And…” Then she realised what he was trying to ask. Every detail came rushing back to her mind. “Yes! There were three flowers missing! Right from the top. And I saw a leg of a goat sticking out from the roots. Someone had made a fire in front of the tree.”

  Arvind slid back in his chair and wiped his mouth, his yellow eyes glaring at her.

  “What is it?” Aditi asked.

  Arvind took his time to answer. Looked back at the hall. Tapped his feet. And then he said, “It was black magic, Madam. Yes. If you say the bangles that you saw were yours…it seems it was done on you. And girls… they were sacrificed for magic. They were price.” Aditi stared back at him in horror. “And it’s definitely that demonic spirit. My mother calls him Jinn. Don’t you see it, Madam? Someone wanted to set him upon you. But he is only interested in young girls. He wouldn’t harm you, because you are… err… married. So, these girls were offered to him as sacrifice! How many roses you said were missing?”

  “Three.”

  “Plucked or shed?”

  “Plucked.”

  “So Zoya...”

  “What is with these roses?”

  “They are used to mark victims, Madam. Their scent attracts him to his target. All you have to do is touch petals to their body. Whatever you do, transfer fragrance to target. But why three, when one would be enough? Did someone want to target both manager and his agent? You know, take down two enemies with one shot? Or maybe, Jinn has just become greedy. Or was he reluctant…” and then another realisation dawned upon him. He lowered his voice, “Madam, I heard that you went to that temple once, you know, once, on your own. Did you ask for something?”

  Aditi nodded yet again.

  “Of course, Jinn wouldn’t agree with one!” he cried out, almost leaping out of his chair. “Devi is upon you Madam! She lives in your house, I think you must have realised by now. And you bonded with her when you asked for your wish. Of course, this Jinn wouldn’t want to interfere with her just for one girl.”

  “Then why would he do it for three?”

  “It gives him power, Madam, to take away soul and keep it enslaved. Consume it. Maybe he thought he will be powerful enough to deal with Devi, you know, once he got three girls.”

  Aditi leaned back in her chair. She tried to clear her mind. Arvind seemed to know too much about the shady matter. She began to wonder if she should seek help from his family. As if sensing her thoughts, he began to talk again, “But most important question is, who did it? Who would want to harm you?”

  She remained silent.

  “Can you think of someone?” he pressed, “Anyone? You know, who wants to get rid of you? Some property dispute? Family dispute? Who might have pressed you to move here?”

  Aditi didn’t think it was the most important question. She knew the answer the moment she saw her hair and bangles. And she began to hate her husband even more. He was a monster. If he wanted her dead, he could have just strangled her in bed while she was sleeping, or slipped a drop or two of poison in her food. Why kill three girls just to keep his name clear? But the question she deemed most important was – who actually performed the ritual for him? And she had this strong feeling who it might be…

  There was a commotion outside. People were greeting someone. Manoj enter the office in a rush… and stopped dead when he saw the occupants. Arvind jumped up from his chair. “Good morning, Sir!” The two clerks touched their hands to their chest in greeting.

  “Aditi?” Manoj asked as he placed his bag on the table.

  She glared at him, mute.

  Arvind sensed the temper that was building within her. “She just came here, Sir. What can you say, sometimes it gets… suffocating… you know, all alone; and given these incidents… and all that she went through…”

  The people around nodded in agreement. If Manoj sensed something was wrong, he didn’t show it.

  “…Sir, when did you return? Right now? You must have heard about…”

  “Yes,” Manoj said urgently as he pulled out a file and handed to a staff. “I don’t know what that Mukhiya was playing at. Beheaded in that temple, for god’s sake! Where were you? Do you know how it happened?” he asked Aditi.

  She did not respond.

  “Why don’t you go home, Sir. We will take care of this file. You have just returned. And Madam has been waiting.” Manoj threw another glance at Aditi. “Should I get a rickshaw, Sir? Don’t worry about work here. I am sure Madam has lots to talk.”

  And then Arvind had marched out.

  “What black magic are you talking about?” Inspector Mishra asked.

  “Why don’t you ask him?” Aditi snapped.

  “What has happened to you, my son! What are
you saying! Please come here. Lie down. Rest. You will feel better.”

  “Feel better? How? For all I know I will wake up dead if I spend another day with this man!”

  “Mr Prasad, come with me?”

  “Please son, come inside. Sit. Inspector Sahib, leave …”

  “I don’t want to do anything with this man…”

  “Where? You can’t take me anywhere. You have no warrant!”

  “Sahib, please, listen to me…”

  “We need to talk, Mr Prasad. Not at the station. Not at your home. Or do you prefer I return with a warrant. Now that your wife has made such a statement.”

  “…selling me off to Nepal wasn’t enough!”

  Manoj hesitated, then stormed out. The inspector followed. The door was shut. Bhagvati ran behind them and slumped to the floor, her head in her hands. Payal stood at the back door, the broom still in her hands.

  *

  Someone knocked at the door about an hour later. Payal opened it to find a man dressed in white. “Is Sir home?”

  She was dumbstruck for a moment. Eventually she let out a guttural no.

  “Is Ma’am here?”

  She didn’t understand.

  “Madam? Aditi Madam?”

  Payal nodded vehemently.

  Manish Singh, the youngest son of the deceased Mukhiya, appeared at the door to the bedroom. He seemed to have shrunk in the span of two days. His hair dishevelled. Eyes sunk in their hollows. Beard unmaintained. He folded his hands flimsily and said, “I heard Sir returned this morning?”

  Aditi felt pity for the man. She was sitting on her bed, her arms wrapped around her folded knees. She wanted to ask him how he was doing. His father and brother, whatever they did, had just died the most horrific death. She was certain that he had no role to play in the conspiracy. He had just taken a wrong holiday. “Yes, he has gone to the bank, I suppose,” she replied instead.

  “Bank? Straight away?”

  “He came here. Then this police inspector took him somewhere.”

  “Yes, I was meaning to talk to you about this inspector as well. I heard he was troubling you. Is that so? I will have a talk with him. He has even summoned me. Sent a message there was something urgent.”