‘Pondicherry?’ Kashi wrinkles his forehead.
‘Pornography,’ Bhavani enlightens him. ‘It is slang – from the nineties.’
‘Ah.’
ONE MONTH AGO
TUESDAY
FRIDAY
This last message has been seen-zoned by Leo.
‘Clearly a clingy, childhood best friend,’ Kashi pronounces.
Bhavani nods. ‘Agreed.’
They move on to the second most frequently called number. This proves to no-nonsense looking young woman called Sho. She has short pink ombre hair, and is cuddling a belligerent looking orange cat in her WhatsApp DP.
ONE WEEK AGO
FIVE DAYS AGO
TWO DAYS AGO
YESTERDAY
They look at each other.
‘She means it figuratively,’ Kashi says.
‘We know,’ Bhavani replies. ‘She sent it after he didn’t come for the shoot, and didn’t return her two missed calls.’
Kashi peers down at her DP. ‘She sounds nice. Strong, and responsible. D’you think they’re in a relationship?’
‘Not any more,’ Bhavani replies whimsically.
They move back up to the edit Sho has sent – the thumbnail is Leo’s handsome brown face frozen mid-move on the screen. The powerful neck is tossed back, the trademark messy mane of hair is on full display, as are the very white teeth, parted in a warm, wide smile.
Bhavani presses play.
‘Uno! Dos! Tres! Cuatro!’ Clad in just a pair of cream cotton pyjamas and a Hawaiian flower garland, Leo dances to a vibrant salsa beat at the edge of a landscaped swimming pool. His movements are effortless, his coordination with the music bang-on. The flowers bounce against his sculpted brown chest and rippling abs, emphasizing the sinuous fluidity of his moves.
Bhavani starts to hum and sway tentatively to the beat. ‘Too good, ya!’ He smiles. ‘This Zumba is quite zabardast!’
Kashi doesn’t look too impressed. ‘Let’s look at the third most favourite caller.’
This turns out to be a man called Naaem. He’s very smiley-faced, and encased in a too-tight jacket.
ONE WEEK AGO
‘How much we would love to take our Shalini on a European holiday!’ Bhavani sighs. ‘Her English is better than the Queen’s also!’
Kashi wonders if he should mention that England is no longer a part of Europe, then decides not to bother.
Bhavani taps the DP of the fourth most frequent caller. He’s saved as Vicky, and turns out to be a dark, smiling man in a Roman Catholic cassock, standing in a Mother
Mary grotto.
Kashi utters a small exclamation. ‘Hey, I know this guy! He runs that orphanage through which I met Leo. It’s in Haryana somewhere.’
There are no WhatsApp messages to or from Vicky. Clearly, he and Leo prefer to just talk.
‘He looks to be the same age as Leo, nahi?’ Bhavani asks.
‘Yes.’ Kashi nods. ‘Didn’t Randy Rax talk about a Vicky? He said the pondi in the texts would blow his holy little mind. The three must be school friends!’
‘Good people to talk to,’ Bhavani replies. ‘We’ll get PK to set up meetings straightaway. Oh look, here are some messages from Urvashi ji.’
There is a very prim exchange of birthday greetings between Leo and Urvashi, several music videos – Shakira’s ‘Waka Waka’, Nora Fatehi’s ‘O Saki Saki’, Bruno Mars’s ‘Uptown Funk’, and a final one Kashi isn’t familiar with. ‘Secrets’ by The Cheeky Peaches.
The two blue ticks beside the message reveal that this last song has been seen by Urvashi, but she hasn’t reacted to it. Nor has she reacted to his next – and final – message, which is a link of some sort.
‘That is a really old song,’ Bhavani Singh says surprised. ‘Matlab, from our times!’ He has a hazy memory from when he was young, of a girl band in the seventies – a blonde, a redhead and a brunette, belting it out in glittering catsuits. ‘Why would he send her that?’
‘Never heard of it,’ Kashi replies. ‘Maybe they were practicing a retro dance or something?’
They continue to scroll though WhatsApp.
‘Here’s a bunch of messages from Bambi,’ Kashi says, amused. ‘Leo keeps asking her if she is going to sign up for Zumba next month and she keeps making excuses and trying to wriggle out of it …’
He looks so relieved, Bhavani observes privately. What a fellow! If he likes her, why doesn’t he just tell her?
Something catches his eye. He frowns and quickly puts out one hand, staying Kashi from scrolling further.
‘Stop, vakeel sa’ab! See, Leo has sent that old song to Bambi ji too! She’s replied with two question marks and a comically scared face. And then he has sent her …’
He pauses, then continues, his voice low and musing, ‘He has sent her this link. Odd.’
He plucks the phone out of Kashi’s hand and clicks on www.badshahpurchildrensvillage.in.
Immediately, a bright blue banner flutters across the screen.
WELCOME TO THE BADSHAHPUR CHILDREN’S VILLAGE! JESUS IS LORD! DONATIONS WELCOME! it proclaims as it settles over an image of laughing children gathered before a red-brick building standing in what appears to be rural Haryana. A priest in a white cassock stands in the middle of the group, smiling.
‘Vicky!’ says Bhavani at once, pointing at the priest. ‘Whose mind will be blown if he watches pondys.’
‘Father Victor Emmanuel,’ Kashi says slowly. ‘That’s the orphanage I met Leo at.’
They stare at the screen, their minds computing this new information.
‘He sent Urvashi some link too,’ Bhavani recalls suddenly.
He checks, working the phone, then looks up at Kashi, his eyes glowing with excitement.
‘Urvashi Khurana, Roshni Aggarwal, Bambi Todi and the surgical strikes walla Gen. Mehra have all received the Cheeky Peaches song. Only Bambi has replied. The others haven’t said anything. Two blue ticks, but radio silence. And all of them, one hour later, have been sent the Badshahpur link by Leo. Again, no response at all. Just two blue ticks.’
‘Bambi, two aunties, and a general,’ Kashi says slowly. ‘Surely that’s odd? Why does Leo even know the general? He doesn’t do Zumba!’
Bhavani frowns. ‘Good point.’
‘My Dad isn’t too hot on Gen. Mehra,’ Kashi continues. ‘He was Dad’s junior in the IMA, but he got a bunch more promotions. Dad says he’s a kiss-up.’
‘He is,’ Bhavani agrees. ‘When we were young, we were taught that an officer should be loyal to the Constitution of India, nat the gourmint of India, but this Gen. Mehra clearly bunked those lessons.’
‘He’s insanely popular though,’ Kashi says.
‘Yes,’ Bhavani is starting to look extremely satisfied. ‘And a man with a reputation to maintain can easily be blackmailed.’
Kashi looks confused. ‘Blackmailed?’
The old ACP chuckles, nodding. Crime Branch regulars would have noticed that his homely face had started to shine with the luminous, beautifying glow of a Bollywood heroine in the ‘after’ part of a face cream commercial – this always happens when he achieves a breakthrough.
‘Yes, vakeel sa’ab, blackmail! What we have here is three rich ladies and one gent with a reputation to maintain. And they’ve all been sent this song! What other conclusion could we possibly draw?’
‘I don’t understand what you’re getting at.’ Kashi frowns. ‘Sure, Bambi’s rich, but she’s never done anything so shady that somebody could blackmail her for it. Besides, she’s the kind of person who needs to regurgitate everything that happens to her on a daily basis or she gets physically ill! I doubt she’d have a deep dark secret. She’s just not made that way.’
He looks up at the policeman with defiant, hostile eyes. Back off, they are saying quite clearly.
Bhavani backtracks smoothly. ‘Well, maybe he
was wrong about Bambi ji. She is the only one who has sent a casual, puzzled reply. The others have gone as still and silent as if a snake has sniffed them. It’s suspicious.’
‘I don’t see why,’ Kashi insists stubbornly. ‘I don’t know how you’re getting blackmail from all this, anyway!’
Bhavani smiles. ‘That is because you are too young to have heard Secrets by the Cheeky Peaches. Listen.’
He taps the screen.
An insistent back beat, the thrum of a string guitar, and a husky female voice:
You think your secret’s safe,
You think you left no trace
You’re sure, that no one knows
You’re smelling … like a rose
But fate has a way of catching up with sinners
At the end of the day there are no free dinners
And I will make you pay
Oh, I will make you pay
P p p p p pay
P p p p p pay
P p p p p pay
P p p p p pay
Oh yeah, you better be worried,
Cos I know where the bodies are buried.
Pay, pay, pay and stay worried,
Cos I know where the bodies are buried.
Bhavani, watching Kashi’s face over the pulsating iPhone, sees the confusion clear as the young lawyer’s mind wraps itself around the only, inevitable solution.
The song ends.
‘Kyun?’ demands Bhavani. ‘What do you think now?’
‘He seems to have been blackmailing the rich to give to the poor,’ Kashi admits slowly. ‘Like Robin Hood. The kind of wild, romantic scheme that’s a socialist’s wet dream. Not bad for Lambodar/Leo!’
The traffic pile-up at the Delhi–Badshahpur Toll Gate is almost a kilometre long and half a kilometre wide. Vendors criss-cross the eight lanes of slow-moving, smoke-spewing, drearily honking vehicles, selling peanuts, jasmine strands, cucumber slices and wedges of coconut to jaundiced looking commuters, who watch with envious eyes as the smartly painted police Gypsy coasts through the ninth lane – reserved for VIPs – and disappears down the highway.
‘I’ve always wanted to do that!’ Kashi Dogra grins. ‘Perks of the job, eh, Bhavani ji?’
Bhavani Singh chuckles genially. ‘As you say, vakeel sa’ab, perks of the job!’
The Gypsy makes good speed on the open road, empty except for the occasional tempo traveller or bus. For a while, both men stare out at the dusty road, which bifurcates a classic Aravalli ridge landscape of grey-green thorned keekar trees spreading out as far as the eye can see.
‘I met my girlfriend on this road,’ Kashi says, after a while. ‘Exactly a year ago.’
‘O really?’ Bhavani looks at him, surprised. ‘You have a girlfriend? We thought—’ He checks himself, shaking his head.
‘You thought, what?’ Kashi’s tone is slightly challenging.
Bhavani shrugs. ‘We thought that if you had three weeks off, you would want to spend them with your girlfriend. But it’s none of our business.’
Kashi’s lean cheeks flush. ‘Oh that,’ he says, a little awkwardly. ‘We had a Goa holiday all planned – which is why I had taken the three weeks off in the first place, but then she cancelled at the last minute.’
‘That is nat nice,’ Bhavani says sympathetically. ‘We hope she is nat unwell? Did you get your money back?’
Kashi nods. ‘Yes, all that part of it is okay, but … we uh, well, we had a bit of an argument when she called to cancel on me.’
‘So you are sulking,’ Bhavani states, shooting a sideways glance at the younger man.
There is a longish pause.
‘Yes,’ Kashi admits ruefully.
‘Young couples fight all the time,’ Bhavani says comfortingly. ‘It is all part of getting to know each other better.’
‘Kuhu and I already know each other well enough.’ Kashi is immediately defensive.
Bhavani smiles reassuringly. ‘We’re sure. We’re sure.’
‘Our tuning is amazing,’ Kashi continues doggedly. ‘We complete each other’s sentences.’
If Bhavani thinks Kashi is protesting too much, he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he asks, ‘What does she do? Your girlfriend?’
Kashi’s face clears a little.
‘She’s an architect. In fact, the day I met her, she was driving out very early in the morning on this very road to see how the light of the rising sun hit the plot of land she had been commissioned to build on.’
‘Wah! It’s good to see young women focusing on their curryars,’ Bhavani remarks admiringly. ‘We have two daughters and they are curryar-minded too. Your girlfriend sounds really committed.’
‘I’m committed too,’ Kashi says at once, and then is utterly mortified. Why the hell did he say that? The ACP was clearly talking about commitment to a career, not to a relationship!
He has Kalra to thank for that first meeting. The two of them had gone to see a late-night screening of the new Creed movie, and the fucker had been texting Walli while driving, about how foul it was, and crashed the car into a barrier on a lonely stretch of the Vasant Kunj ridge at three in the morning. Kashi, asleep beside him, had woken up with a godawful jerk to the sight of Kalra, his nose all bloody, bent over in pain, screaming, ‘My cock, my cock!’
It had turned out to be his leg, not his cock – but he was definitely unable to walk. The two of them ended up sitting in pitch darkness by the side of the forest road, besides the totalled car. Kalra’s phone had got smashed in the crash, and Kashi’s had been dead anyway. Their best hope was that Walli, wondering why Kalra had stopped texting mid-rant, would be alarmed enough to come looking for them.
Just when Kashi had started thinking it made more sense to leave Kalra there and start jogging to civilization for help, a car had driven up, its beams shining on their bloodied faces. They had waved frantically. The car had slowed down uncertainly, the driver clearly in two minds – the Badshahpur forest road is notorious for rapes and muggings. Kashi had leapt to his feet, run forward and beaten his hands on the glass, shouting for help.
That settled the matter. The car accelerated, and sped off.
‘I’m dying!’ Kalra had groaned thickly, collapsing to lie on his back on the road. ‘I’m dying, Dogra!’
Then, as Kashi had watched, holding his friend, helpless with fury and frustration, the car executed a three-point turn, drove back and stopped nearby. The window on the driver’s side had lowered an inch.
‘You guys need help?’
It was a hesitant female voice, slightly musical, very wary. At that moment, it seemed to Kashi he had never heard a more beautiful sound in his whole life.
‘My friend’s hurt!’ he yelled hoarsely. ‘We need a ride!’
There was a long pause.
‘Don’t drive off!’ Kashi begged, panicking. ‘Please! Our phones are smashed! And the signal’s shit, anyway!’
‘Okay, but we can never tell my mother about this,’ the girl had finally said in a tight voice. ‘Get in.’
Needing no second invitation, Kashi had half-carried, half-bundled the bloodied Kalra into the backseat, then clambered in beside him and slammed the car door shut.
‘If you pull out a knife or a gun now,’ the girl said, in the same tight voice, ‘and this spirals into some ghastly rape and robbery, you’ll have destroyed my faith in the human race forever. Remember that.’
‘I’m speaking perfect English, bro,’ Kalra groaned in reply. ‘Do I sound like a fucking rapist?’
‘That’s fucking classist,’ she’d shot back at once. ‘You’re clearly an elitist asshole.’ She met Kashi’s eyes in the mirror. He glimpsed narrowed eyes behind black-rimmed glasses, a belligerent nostril and a tiny nose piercing. ‘Are you an asshole too?’
‘No no, I’m just thankful you stopped for us,’ he had hurried to assure her. Then he couldn’t help adding,
‘Though you do realize you took a terrible risk! Never stop like that again! And you shouldn’t be driving alone, on such a lonely road, so late in the night, anyway!’
‘Okay, Mummy,’ she had replied, now disgusted with both of them. ‘Jesus, what a pair of creeps.’
‘Sorry,’ Kashi had muttered contritely. Kalra had just moaned in pain.
She’d changed gears, got the car to move. ‘The Spinal Injuries Institute is closest,’ she’d said curtly. ‘Brace yourselves for the ride.’
And that had been that.
Now, Kashi stares out of the window at the passing wilderness, and feels like a total heel.
Then he reaches for his phone, types out a message, and presses send.
‘Well, at least this young lady likes to wake up early!’ Bhavani chuckles besides him. ‘Your other young lady, she doesn’t like to wake up early, no?’
Kashi looks up from his phone, confused.
‘Arrey, for the Zumba!’ Bhavani reminds him.
The tips of Kashi’s ears redden. ‘She’s not my other young lady,’ he says shortly. ‘She’s just a … a bachpan ka dost.’
And then he remembers how hurt he’d been when Bambi had used exactly this phrase to describe him to her juice stall assistants, and starts to feel wretchedly guilty.
‘I’m just …’ he hesitates and goes quiet.
Missing something, he admits to himself. Something he wasn’t even aware he was missing until he met Bambi Todi again. The memories, and the level of comfort and familiarity they share is insane, and then there’s that trustful, peculiar softness of her, the open vulnerability, the total access pass – the whole combination is a potent package.
Basically, when Kuhu turns her eyes on him and smiles, he feels like the sun has come out from behind a dark cloud, but when Bambi Todi does the same thing, he feels like the sun itself.
Besides him, Bhavani Singh, seemingly unaware of Kashi’s internal churnings, gives a satisfied little grunt. ‘Ah! There is the Badshahpur turn-off …’
Club You to Death Page 10
